
Book >--^ ^ 



LETTERS « 



TO 



YOUNG LADIES 



MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 



•* Every sort of useful knowledge should be imparted to the young, not 
merely for its own sake, but for the sake of its subserviency to higher 
things."-— Mils. Hannah More. 



FOURTEENTH EDITION. 



NEW-YORK: 
HARPER & BROTHERS, 

No. 82 CLIFF- STREET. 
184 6. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year \^.?S. by 

Harper & Brothers, 
lii the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of Isew-Yoik. 



PREFACE. 



I HAVE been requested to address a few thoughts to 
the youth of my own sex, on subjects of simple nature, 
and serious concern. The employment has been pleas- 
ant, for their interests are dear to me; and several 
years devoted to their instruction, have unfolded more 
fully their claims to regard, and the influence they 
might exercise in society. Should a single heart, in 
"life's sweet blossoming season," derive, from this 
little volume, aid, guidance, or consolation, tenfold 
satisfaction will be added to the pleasure with which 
it has been composed. 



PUBLISHERS' NOTICE. 



The present edition of '* Letters to Young Ladies" 
has been revised and enlarged by the Author, and also 
received the addition of two letters, recently prepared 
for the London edition, which together, increase the 
original work between 30 and 40 pages, and render 
it more valuable to its readers. 



INDEX, 



PAGB 

PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION, .... 1 
PUBLISHERS' NOTICE TO THE TENTH EDITION, 3 
INTRODUCTION, • . . . 9 



LETTER I. 
VALUE OF TIME, 17 

LETTER II. 
RELIGION, 29 

LETTER III. 
KNOWLEDGE, 47 



VI INDEX. 

PAGE. 

LETTER IV. 
INDUSTRY, 64 

LETTER V. 
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS 78 

LETTER VI. 
HEALTH AND DRESS, 92 

LETTER VII. 
MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS, .... 105 

LETTER VIII. 
SISTERLY VIRTUES, 120 

LETTER IX. 
BOOKS, 146 

LETTER X. 
FRIENDSHIP, 165 

LETTER XI. 
CHEERFULNESS, ]7^ 

LETTER XII. 
CONVERSATION, 183 

LETTER XIII. 
EVENING THOUHGTS 20- 



INDEX. Vll 

PAGE 

LETTER XIV. 
SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS, 213 

LETTER XV. 
BENEVOLENCE, 225 

LETTER XVI. 
SELF-CONTROL, 245 

LETTER XVII. 
UTILITY, 267 

LETTER XVIII. 
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE, 285 



INTRODUCTION. 



In preparing this volume of Letters to Young La- 
dies, the mind has been often naturally turned to 
those who direct their education, either as parents, 
instructers, or rulers of popular opinion. The 
thoughts thus suggested, though they may comprise 
nothing new, are offered without apology, since ev- 
ery form of mental culture is now considered worthy 
to prompt the studies of the sage, the plans of the 
political economist, or the labours of the patriot. 
" The mind of the present age, acting on the mind 
of the next," is an object of concern to every being 
endowed w^ith intellect, or interested, through love or 
hope, in the welfare of the human race. Our age 
fully admits this sentiment ; and we see not only the 
theorist and the practical man, but the divine, the 
philosopher, and the poet, devising modes of nurture 
for the unfolding mind, and striving to make useful 
knowledge the guest of the common people. | 

In this proposed elevation of the intellectual stand- / 
ard the female sex are allowed freely to participate. | 
No Moslem interdict continues to exclude them from 
the temple of knowledge, and no illusion of chivalry 
exalts them at once above life's duties and its truest 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

joys. Grateful for these heightened privileges, and 
believing that an increase of liberality might be prof- 
itable to the giver and receiver, we solicit it for the 
daughters of our country, the rose-buds, the birds of 
song, who make our homes so beautiful. 

Is it not desirable that the education of females 
should be extended over a wider space of time ? that 
it should be less embarrassed by extraneous objects ? 
that the solidity of its foundation should bear more 
accurate proportion to the ornament of the super- 
structure 7 Is it not important that the sex to whom 
Nature has intrusted the moulding of the whole mass 
of mind in its first formation should be acquainted 
with the structure and developments of mind ? that 
they who are to nurture the future rulers of a pros- 
perous people should be able to demonstrate, from 
the broad annal of history, the value of just laws 
and the duty of subordination ? the blessings w^hich 
they inherit, and the danger of their abuse ? Is it 
not requisite that they, on whose bosom the infant 
heart must be cherished, should be vigilant to watch 
its earliest pulsations for good or evil ? that they 
who are commissioned to light the lamp of the soul 
should know how to feed it with pure oil ? that they 
in whose hand is the welfare of beings never to die, 
should be fitted to perform the w^ork and earn the 
plaudit of heaven ? 

The natural vocation of females is to teach. In 
seminaries, academies, and schools, they possess pe- 
culiar facilities for coming in contact with the un- 
folding and unformed mind. It is true, tlip.t only 



INTRODUCTION. H 

a small proportion are engaged in the. departments 
of public and systematic instruction. Yet the hear- 
ing of recitations, and the routine of scholastic 
discipline, are but parts of education. It is in the 
domestic sphere, in her own native province, that 
woman is inevitably a teacher. There she modi- 
fies by her example, her dependants, her compan- 
ions, every dweller under her own roof Is not 
the infant in its cradle her pupil ? Does not her 
smile give the earliest lesson to its soul ? Is not 
her prayer the first messenger for it in the court of 
Heaven ? Does she not enshrine her own image 
in the sanctuary of the young child's mind so firm- 
ly that no revulsion can displace, no idolatry sup- 
plant it ? Does she not guide the daughter, un- 
til, placing her hand in that of her husband, she 
reaches that pedestal, from whence, in her turn, she 
imparts to others the stamp and colouring which 
she has herself received ? Might she not, even upon 
her sons, engrave w^hat they shall take unchanged, 
through all the temptations of time, to the bar of the 
last judgment ? Does not the influence of woman 
rest upon every member of her household, like the 
dew upon the tender herb, or the sunbeam silently 
educating the young flower ? or as the shower and 
the sleepless stream, cheer and invigorate the proud- 
est tree of the forest ? 

Admitting, then, that whether she wills it or not, 
whether she even knows it or not, she is still a teach- 
er, and perceiving that the mind in its most plas- 
tic state is yielded to her tutelage, it becomes a 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

most momentous inquiry what she shall be qualified 
to teach. Will he not of necessity impart what 
she most prizes and best understands 1 Has she not 
power to impress her own lineaments on the next 
generation ? If wisdom and utility have been the 
objects of her choice, society will surely reap the 
benefit. If folly and self-indulgence are her pre- 
vailing characteristics, posterity are in danger of 
inheriting the likeness. 

This influence is most visible and operative in a 
republic. The intelligence and virtue of its every 
citizen have a heightened relative value. Its safe- 
ty may be interwoven with the destiny of those 
whose birthplace is in obscurity. The springs of its 
vitality are liable to be touched, or the chords of its 
harmony to be troubled, by the rudest hands. 

Teachers under such a form of government should 
be held in the highest honour. They are the allies 
of legislators. They have agency in the prevention 
of crime. They aid in regulating the atmosphere, 
whose incessant action and pressure causes the life- 
blood to circulate, and return pure and healthful to 
the heart of the nation. 

Of what unspeakable importance, then, is her ed- 
ucation, who gives lessons before any other instruct- 
er ; w^ho preoccupies the unwritten page of being ; 
who produces impressions which only death can ob- 
literate ; and mingles with the cradle-dream what 
shall be read in eternity. Well may statesmen and 
philosophers debate how she may be best educated 
"who is to educate all mankind. 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

The ancient republics overlooked the value of 
that sex whose strength is in the heart. Greece, 
so susceptible to the principle of beauty, so skilled in 
wielding all the elements of grace, failed in appre- 
ciating their excellence, whom these had most exqui- 
sitely adorned. If, in the brief season of youthful 
charm, she was constrained to admire woman as the 
acanthus-leaf of her own Corinthian capital, she did 
not discover how, like that very column, she was ca- 
pable of adding stability to the proud temple of free- 
dom. She would not be convinced that so feeble a 
hand might have aided to consolidate the fabric 
which philosophy embellished, and luxury over- 
threw. 

Rome, notwithstanding her primeval rudeness, 
seems more correctly than polished Greece to have 
estimated the " weaker vessel." Here and there, 
upon the storm-driven billows of her history, some 
solitary form towers upward in majesty, and the 
mother of the Gracchi still stands forth in strong 
relief amid imagery over which time has no pow- 
er. But still, wherever the brute force of the war- 
rior is counted godlike, woman is appreciated only 
as she approximates to sterner natures : as in thai 
mysterious image which troubled the sleep of As- 
syria's king — the foot of clay derived consistence 
from the iron which held it in combination. 

In our own republic, man, invested by his Maker 
with the right to reign, has conceded to her, who 
was for ages in vassalage, equality of intercourse, 
participation in knowledge, dominion over his dear- 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

est and fondest hopes. He is content to " bear the 
burden and heat of the day," that she may dwell in 
ease and affluence. Yet, from the very felicity of 
her lot, dangers are generated. She is tempted to 
be satisfied with superficial attainments, or to in- 
dulge in that indolence which corrodes intellect, and 
merges the high sense of responsibility in its alluring 
and fatal slumbers. 

These tendencies should be neutralized by a thor- 
ough and laborious education. Sloth and luxury 
must have no place in her vocabulary. Her youth 
should be surrounded by every motive to applica- 
tion, and her maturity dignified by the hallowed office 
of rearing the immortal mind. While her partner 
toils for his stormy portion of that power or glory 
from which it is her privilege to be sheltered, let her 
feel that in the recesses of domestick privacy she still 
renders a noble service to the government that pro- 
tects her, by sowing seeds of purity and peace in the 
hearts of those who shall hereafter claim its honours 
or control its destinies. 

Her place is amid the quiet shades, to watch the 
little fountain ere it has breathed a murmur. But 
the fountain will break forth into a rill, and the 
swollen rivulet rush towards the sea ; and who can 
be so well able to guide them in right channels as 
she who heard their first ripple, and saw them 
emerge like timid strangers from their source, and 
had kingly power over those infant-waters, in the 
name of Him who caused them to flow ? 

And now, Guardians of Education, whether pa 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

rents, preceptors, or legislators — you who have so 
generously lavished on woman the means of knowl- 
edge — complete your bounty by urging her to gath- 
er its treasures with a tireless hand. Demand of her 
as a debt the highest excellence which she is capa- 
ble of attaining. Summon her to abandon selfish 
motives and inglorious ease. Incite her to those 
virtues which promote the permanence and health 
of nations. Make her accountable for the character 
of the next generation. Give her solemn charge in 
the presence of men and of angels. Gird her with 
the whole armour of education and piety, and see if 
she be not faithful to her children, to her country, 
and to her God* 



LIIITER I. 

VALUE OF TIMB. 

As nothing truly valuable^, my dear young 
friend^ can be attained without industry, so there 
can be no persevering industry, without a sense ot 
the value of time. Youth would be too happy, 
might it add to its own beauty and felicity, the 
wisdom of riper years. Were it possible for it to 
realize the worth of time, as life's receding hours 
will reveal it, how rapidly would it press on tow 
ards perfection. It is too often the case, that the 
period allotted to education, is but imperfectly 
appreciated, till it approaches its close, or has 
actually departed. Then, its recollections are 
mingled with regret or repentance ; for experience 
is more frequently the fruit of our own mistakes 
and losses, than the result of the admonitions and 
counsels of others. 

Still, the young are sometimes found sedulously 
regarding the flight of time, and zealously mark- 
ing it with mental and moral excellence. Illus- 
trating in their practice, the aspiration of the 
Psalmist, they learn " to number their days, that 
they may apply their hearts unto wisdom." 

Suffer me, then, with the urgency of true 



18 VALUEOFTIME. 

friendship, to impress on you the importance of a 
just estimation of time. Consider how much is 
to be performed, attained, and conquered, ere you 
are fitted to discharge the duties which the sphere 
of woman comprehends. Think of the brevity of 
hfe. The most aged have compared it to a span 
in compass — and to a shuttle in flight. Compute 
its bearings upon the bliss or wo of eternity, and 
remember if mispent, it can never be recalled. 
Other errors admit of reformation. Lost wealth 
may be regained, by a course of industry ; — the 
wreck of health, repaired by temperance ; — for- 
gotten knowledge, restored by study ; — alienated 
friendship soothed into forgiveness : — even forfeit- 
ed reputation won back by penitence and virtue. 
But who ever again looked upon his vanished 
hours ? — ^recalled his slighted years and stamped 
them with wisdom ? — or effaced from Heaven's 
record, the fearful blot of a wasted life ? 

The waste of time in youth, is a gi'eater evil 
than at any other period of existence. " The mis- 
improvement of youthful days," says an elegant 
writer, " is more than the mere loss of time. 
Figure to yourself the loss that the year would 
sustain were the spring taken away : such a loss 
do they sustain who trifle in youth." 

When there is so much to be done for individ- 
ual improvement, in the formation of correct 
habits, and preparation for untried duty — so much 
for parents and benefactors, to pay even imper- 
fectly the debt of gratitude — so much for broth- 



VALUE OF TIME. 19 

ers, and sisters, and friends — so much for the 
poor, the uneducated, the afflicted — so much in 
obedience to Him who hath commanded us to 
" work out our own salvation with fear and trem- 
bhng ;" how unreasonable is it to do but little, and 
to do that little carelessly ! how sinful to trifle 
away our time in light amusement, or profitless 
pursuit ! It is no excuse for us, that others waste 
their days in desultory pleasures, or pass their 
youth without motive and without improvement. 
Every one must stand alone to give account at 
last. The example of an associate will not be 
accepted as a palliation, nor the habit of excuse, 
however it might have deceived men, justify us 
before a judge who readeth the intents of the 
heart. 

The successful improvement of time, is aided 
by order in its distribution. A division of the day 
into parts, facilitates the successful discharge of 
its duties. Many of those who have become emi- 
nent in science and literature, have adhered to a 
systematick arrangement of time. King Alfred, 
who so remedied the defects of early education, as 
to gain distinction in the field of intellect, as w^ell 
as in the annals of royalty, was an example of 
regularity. He divided the twenty-four hours 
into three equal portions. One of these periods 
of eight hours was devoted to the duties of reli- 
gion, one to repose, recreation and literature, and 
the other to the cares of his realm. Sir William 
Tones who acquired the knowledge of twenty- 



20 VALUEOFTIME. 

eight languages, and whose attainments in all that 
ennoble man were such, that it was pronounced a 
*' happiness to his race that he was born," perse 
vered in a regular allotment of his time to partic 
ular occupations, and a scrupulous adherence to 
the distribution which he had established. Thus 
his great designs went on without confusion ; and 
so convinced was he of the excellence of daily 
system, and so humble in the estimation of his 
native endowments, that to the inquiry how his 
wonderful attainments in every branch of know- 
ledge had been made, he was accustomed to reply, 
only by industry and regular application. 

Though the path of distinction in science and 
literature may not be the object of our ambition, 
yet in the sphere allotted to our sex, order and 
method are of essential importance. The assign- 
ing daily duty to particular hours, helps to ensure 
its performance. The system must often yield to 
circumstances, and be subject to interruptions, yet 
by keeping its general features steadily in view, 
more will be accomplished, and to better purpose 
than by desultory effort. 

Consider every day, my dear young friends, as 
a sacred gift from the Author of your being. Di- 
vide it between the duties you owe to Him, to 
yourselves, and your fellow-creatures. Remem- 
ber that you are held responsible at a higher tri- 
bunal than that of earth, for the manner in which 
they are discharged. Keep these three great de- 
partments before the aye of the mind Pr ipor- 



VALDEOFTIME. 21 

tion the day between them, as the promised land 
was divided by lot among the chosen tribes. 
Consult those whom it is yom* duty to obey or to 
please, respecting the appropriation of hours to 
employments. Use discretion and kindness in not 
interfering with the convenience of those around^ 
and then evince decision in not yielding to slight 
obstacles. "WTien your system is once correctly 
established, let it be understood that it is not 
lightly to be set aside. When it must unavoid- 
ably yield, make use of it as an exercise of pa- 
tience and gentleness. 

With the first light of the morning say to you? 
waking heart : " Behold another day, to be divided 
between the Giver, your own improvement, and 
the good of those with whom you are associated/* 
Secure by early risings those hours, when the 
frame is refreshed by repose, and the mind clear 
and vigorous with consciousness of renovated ex- 
istence. Commence your day with devotion, the 
reading of the Scriptures, and meditation. As far 
as possible, let these sacred duties be in solitude 
and secrecy between yourself and your Makei 
Raised by his hand from the helplessness of slum- 
ber, dependant on it for protection throughout the 
unknown changes of a day which may be your 
last on earth, let the young heart pour out its grat- 
itude and hope, as living incense on the breath of 
the rising morn. 

When the celebrated Boerhaave was inquired 
of, how he was able to acquire and to perform so 



22 VALUEOFTIME. 

much, he answered : " It is my morning hour of 
prayer and meditation that gives me spirit and 
vigour during the labours of the day." He enjoined 
this practice on his friends, as one of the best 
rules in his power to give, conducive both to 
health of body, tranquillity of mind, and right con- 
duct under the various allotments of providence. 
Were it necessary to multiply arguments, the ex- 
ample of the pious in all ages might be adduced 
to sanction the practice of hallowing the morning 
by devotion. The changes of the day, though it 
open with the smile of hope, are unknown. It 
may lead to unexpected trial. It may test the 
firmness of your soul by sudden prosperity. It 
may open the fountain of tears. It may summon 
you to that pale assembly, who have no longer 
any share in the things done under the sun. It 
will certainly bring you nearer to their narrow 
house. Take therefore with you a blessing, the 
solicited guidance of divine grace, the leadings of 
that pure spirit which can sustain the infirmities 
of our nature, and " what is dark, illumine ; what 
is low, raise and support." 

The second division of the duties of the day 
regards yourself. Much is required of the young 
to fit themselves for respectabihty and usefulness 
in life. Much is required of our sex, in the pres- 
ent state of society, and by the spirit of an age 
rapidly advancing in improvement. Be true to 
every just expectation. Regard it as a privilege 
that much is expected of you. The care of your 



VALUEOFTIME, 23 

health, the advance of your mind in knowledge by 
study and contemplation, dexterity and diligence in 
the varied circle of domestick employment, atten- 
tion to such accomplishments as your station may 
require, the whole field of physical, mental and 
moral culture, which opens before her who is de- 
termined that her husbandry shall not be faithless, 
nor her harvest light, is too wide and diversified to 
admit of rules being given you by another, except 
the injunction that as far as is in your power, each 
portion should have its allotted period. 

The third department of daily duty regards our 
fellow-beings. To be engrossed wholly by our 
own pursuits, creates selfishness. It is possible 
for the intellect to be cultivated at the expense of 
the heart. Therefore our obligations to those 
with whom we travel on " time's brief journey," 
should be clearly defined. This interchange aids 
in forming habits of disinterested kindness, and in 
preparing our nature for some of its most delight- 
ful affections. The duties which we owe to pa- 
rents, benefactors, and teachers, claim a pre-emi- 
nent place in our regard. Though we may not 
hope to repay according to what we have receiv 
ed ; let us not be deficient in any testimony of 
gratitude which it is in our power to render. 

There is one virtue which I wish to recommend 
to your attention, my young friends, in which the 
present age has been pronounced deficient. I 
mean, respect to the aged. To " honour the hoary 
head, and rise up before the face of the old man,'* 



24 VALUEOFTIMJS 

IS a command of Jehovah. Those who have 
borne the burdens of hfe until strength has failed, 
in whose bosoms are treasures of experience to 
which we are strangers, whose virtues are con 
firmed beyond the fear of change or fluctuation, 
and who by the short space that divides their ri- 
pened piety from its reward, may be literally said 
to be " but a little lower than the angels," are 
surely worthy of the veneration of youth. Even 
when age is seen united with infirmity of purpose, 
or decay of those organs, through which the mind 
has been accustomed to act, it is entitled to ten- 
derness from those who must themselves tread the 
same path of withered and wearied energies, un- 
less they go down to an earlier grave. The aged 
are soothed by the marked respect of the young, 
and the tribute is graceful to those who render it. 

Attention to brothers, sisters, and companions, 
culture of social feelings, punctuality in promises, 
kindness and courtesy to all, open an important 
and interesting sphere of action. Good oflices to 
the poor, the uneducated, the afilicted, you will 
also as you have opportunity, comprehend within 
your social or relative department of duty. 

Close the day by the same sacred services with 
which it commenced. Add also the exercise of 
self-examination. Compare the performances in 
each division of duty with the requisitions enfor- 
ced in the morning. Inquire of the first allotted 
period, what hast thou done to render the soul 
more acceptable to pure eyes^ — of the second, 



VALUEOFTIME. 25 

what armour hast thou given the mind for Hfe's 
warfare ? — of the third, how hast thou aided the 
heart to advance the happiness of others ? Let 
each hour bring its report. Marshalled under 
their respective leaders, bid them pass the review 
of conscience. May it be found that none have 
slumbered at their post, none broken their ranks, 
none deserted to the enemy. Something will be 
gathered from the tablet of the most faultless day — 
for regret. Something also for encouragement. 
Something for praise, to the Giver of " every good 
and perfect gift." 

One useful adjunct in this work of self-inspec- 
tion is a Journal. It seems like the visible pres- 
ence of a friend, whose frown makes folly asha- 
med, and whose smile gives confidence to virtue. 
It preserves what else might be forgotten, and 
plants way-marks and scatters mementoes, at 
every footstep of om* pilgrimage. It gives an ar- 
tificial length to life, by clothing the buried past in 
fresh and living imagery, and aiding us to retrace, 

As in a map, the voyager his course, 
The windings of our way for many years. 

Though in the seclusion of the domestick sphere, 
the course of passing events will usually be too 
monotonous to justify narration, yet the current of 
feeling and sentiment, the authors with whom we 
are conversant, and the reflections of a mind in 
search of knowledge and truth, will always fur- 
nish somethinop worthv of memorial, so that *^ no 

3 



26 VALUEOFTIME. 

day need be without its line." If the habit of 
writing a Journal is commenced, it should be daily 
observed, as its interest declines with any irregu- 
larity. Like a true friend, it cannot bear neglect 
unmoved. Those who have tested its utility for 
years, have pronounced it a valuable assistant in 
fixing the eye of the mind on the never-staying 
flight of time, and in keeping vivid in the heart, 
the lessons taught by the discipline of Heaven. 
They have also supposed that they found ben- 
efit by copying in its pages, questions like the 
following, with their correspondent replies, and 
adopting them as rules of conduct : — 

1. Will you endeavour to establish a daily sys- 
tematick division of time, with a view to improve- 
ment ? 

2. Will you ask the concurrence of those whose 
wishes and convenience you are bound to consult ? 

3. Will you not unnecessarily recede from your 
system, nor renounce it in despair because it is 
cften interrupted ? 

4. At what hour will you rise ? 

5. How much time will you allow to the sacred 
duties of the morning ? 

6. What part of the day will you devote to the 
careful perusal of books for the attainment of use- 
ful knowledge ? 

7. What period will you allot to the needle, and 
the various departments of domestick industry ? 

8. What part to healthful exercise, accomplish 
ments and recreation ? 



VALUEOFTIME. 27 

9. What part to the comfort of relatives, friends 
and the family circle ? 

10. What period to the relief of poverty, afflic- 
tion and ignorance ? 

1 1 . At what hour v^ill you retire to repose ? 

12. Will you close the day by religious exer- 
cises, and a careful retrospect of its several hours 
and duties ? 

Perseverance in such a course will render the 
remembrance of your days delightful, and give to 
your life a diadem of beauty, and a crown of wis- 
dom. Do not relinquish your attempts to realize 
the value of time, until you have learned to esti- 
mate its smaller portions. An hour faithfully im- 
proved may accomplish much. It was a rule of 
the excellent Bishop Taylor, that at the striking of 
every clock, we should enter with renewed vigour 
upon the appropriate duty of the new hour, and 
lift up the heart for God's assistance and blessing. 
The philosopher was wise who affixed to his study- 
door the inscription, " Time is my estate. If I 
lose an hour how shall I repay the debt ?" In the 
science of economy, the sage Franklin enjoined 
the care of half pence. In a system of thorough 
improvement of time, the care of half hours, is 
equally essential. With respect to many of the 
other gifts of Heaven, our perception is quick, and 
our attachment ardent. We prize beauty because 
it charms the eye, though it fades like the summer- 
rose ; wealth, because it purchases the things that 
we call good, though they perish in the using 



S8^ VALUE OF TIME 

reputation, because the consciousness of it is 
pleasant, thougli a breath may blast it ; let us not 
then forget to value above all these possessions — 
time^ which may be so improved as to purchase 
the bliss of eternity. 

" Great God !" says the eloquent Massillon, 
" for what purpose dost thou leave us here on 
earth, but to render ourselves worthy of thine eter- 
nal inheritance ! Every thing that we do for the 
world shall perish with it, whatsoever we do for 
thee shall be immortal. And w^hat shall we say to 
thee, on the bed of death, w^hen thou shalt enter 
into judgment wdth us, and demand an account of 
the time which thou didst grant to be employed 
in glorifying and serving thee ? Shall we say, 
we have had friends to boast of on earth, but have 
acquired none to ourselves in heaven ; we have 
made every exertion to please men, and none to 
please the Almighty? And shall it be written 
upon our lives — time lost for eternity " 



LETTER II. 



RELIGION 



In the education of the young, one of our first 
inquiries should be, what pursuits are the most in- 
dispensable, and what attainments best adapted to 
their probable sphere of action. In estimating the 
sciences, we take into view, both their present 
utility, and their future gain. The most assiduous 
attention should be allotted to those, which will be 
most imperatively demanded. We persevere in 
teaching a child to speak, to read, and to write his 
native language — because through these mediums 
alone, is he to acquire and communicate ideas. 

The relative value of attainments is affected by 
the different stages and conditions of human life. 
Those are held most valuable, which extend their 
influence over the greatest space of time. Some 
accomplishments are adapted to the season of 
youth, and with it pass av/ay. These possess a 
fugitive value, when compared with the whole 
extent of life. They are like the tint upon the 
blossom, which fades that the fruit may ripen. 

Some acquisitions depend on the perfection of 
the senses. Their standard of value, must be also 
fluctuating. Where is the exquisite skill of the en 

3* 



30 RELIGION. 

graver — or the delicate touch of the mmiature- 
painter — when the eye grows dim ? Where is 
the power of the master of sweet sounds, when the 
haip of the ear is broken ? — or of .he constructor 
of dehcate mechanism, when the; hand is para- 
lyzed ? — or of the orator, when the valve of the 
.ungs plays no more at the bidding ot eloquent 
thought ? 

It would seem that the purely intellectual scien 
ces might possess a more inherent value. Par- 
taking of the nature of the mind, they are less de- 
pendant on the changes of material things. But 
memory, the keeper of all knowledge, is subject 
to accident. Disease may impair its tenacity, or 
age destroy it. 

Is there then any science, which is attainable 
at every period of life — and available till its close ? 
whose processes are not disturbed though the eye 
withdraw its light — or the ear its counsel — or the 
right hand its cunning — or the tongue its musick? 
whose results are not confused when age gi'opes 
in the mazes of doubt and imbecility ? whose 
treasures are not lost, though time, turning as a 
lobber upon memory, strews the fine gold of its 
casket on the winds ? 

I knew a man, distinguished alike by native 
talent, and classical acquisition. In his boyhood, 
he loved knowledge, and the teachers of know- 
ledge. He selected that profession w^hich taxes 
intellect with the most severity, and became em 
inent both in the ihenry and practice of jurispru 



RELIGION. 31 

dence. While manhood, and the hopes of ambi- 
tion, and the joys of affection we^e fresh about 
him, disease attacked him, by its f( arful ministers 
of paralysis and blindness. So he lived for years, 
without the power of motion, or the blessing of 
sight. Among those whom he had served, coun- 
selled and commanded, he was but a broken ves- 
sel. Yet light shone inwardly, without a cloud. 
A science, which in youth he had cultivated, con- 
tinued its active operations, though the " eye was 
dim, and the natural force abated." Commum 
eating power of endurance, and opening sources 
.'f profitable contemplation — it brought a cheerful 
♦imile to the brow of that sufferer, who, sightless 
and motionless on his bed, was counted by the 
unreflecting, but as a wreck of humanity. And 
this science was religion. 

There was a man who had won eminence in the 
ranks of fame, and whom his country delighted to 
honom*. Ennobled both by erudition and integ- 
<-ity, he had walked on the high places of the earth, 
" without spot, and blameless." I saw him, when 
almost a hundred winters had past over him. 
Like the aged Gileadite, he was able no longer to 
hear the " voice of singing-men, or of singing- 
women." The beautiful residence which his own 
taste had ornamented, spread its charms to an un- 
conscious owner. The rose and the vine-flower 
breathed their fragrance for others, and the flocks 
in his green pastures, once his delight, roamed 
unheeded 



32 REI.IGION, 

I bore him a message of love from a friend of 
early days, who had stood with him among states- 
men, when the nation was in jeopardy, and when 
mutual danger, draws more closely the bonds of 
affection. But the links of friendship, once inter 
woven with the essence of his being, were sun 
dered. Between the recollections that I fain 
would have restored, and the speech that clothed 
them, there was a " great gulf fixed." Both the 
name and image of the cherished companion had 
fled for ever. 

A vase of massy silver was brought forth, on 
which his country had caused to be sculptured, the 
record of his services, and of her gratitude. He 
gazed vacantly upon it. No chord of association 
vibrated. The love of honourable distinction, so 
long burning like a perpetual incense-flame on the 
altar of a great mind, had forsaken its temple. I 
felt a tear start at the humbling thought, that of 
all he had gotten, nothing remained. At parting, 
something was mentioned of the Deity, the benefi- 
cent Father of us all. Those lips, hitherto so im- 
moveable, trembled. The cold, blue eye sparkled, 
as through frost. The thin, bloodless hand clasped 
mine, as he uttered with a startling energy : — 

" When by the whelming tempest borne, 
High o'er the broken wave, 
aew thou wert not slow to hear, 
Nor impotent to save." 

And as I slowly passed down the avenue frorw 



R E L i fi 1 N . 33 

thai patnaichial mansion, I heard his i^oice lifted 
in player, and learned that its spirit might survive 
— even when the endowments of a mighty intel^ 
lect, and the precious consciousness of a pure 
renown, were alike effaced from the tablet of 
remembrance. 

Among those who serve at God's altar, was 
one, who had faithfully discharged through a long 
life, the holy duties of his vocation. He lingered 
after his contemporaries had gone to rest. By the 
fireside of his only son, he sat in peaceful dignity, 
and the children of another generation loved his 
silver locks. In that quiet recess j memory was 
lulled to sleep. The names of even familiar 
things, and the images held most indehble, faded 
as a dream. Still he lived on — cheered by that 
reverence which is due to the " hoary head, when 
found in the way of righteousness." At length, 
his vigour failed. The staff could no longer sup- 
port his tottering steps, and nature tended to her 
last repose. 

It was attempted by the repetition of his own 
name, to awaken the torpor of memory. But he 
replied, " I know not the man^ Mention was 
made of his only son, the idol of his early yearsj 
whose filial gratitude had taken every form and 
office of affection : " 7 have no son^'^ The ten- 
der epithet by which he had designated his fa- 
vourite grandchild was repeated : " I have no little 
darling,^^ Among the group of friends who sur- 
rounded his bed, there wa? one who spoke of the 



34 il E L 1 G 1 O N . 

Redeemer of man. The aged suddenly raised 
himself upon his pillow. His eye kindled, as 
when from the pulpit, in the vigour of his daySj 
he had addressed an audience whom he loved. 
" / remember that Saviour, Yes — / do remem^ 
her the Lord Jesus ChristP 

There seems then to be a science which sur 
vives when the body is powerless — and age 
sweeps away the hoarded gems of learning and 
the emblems of fame : which prolongs enjoyment 
when memory has departed, and when those affec- 
tions which are the first to quicken, and the last 
to decay, become as cold clay about the heart 
strings. 

Perceiving that adversity happens to all, the 
young would naturally inquire, if there is any 
science which fortifies against it, or furnishes ar- 
mour to resist its shock. For those transitions 
from wealth to poverty, which sometimes overtake 
the wisest, philosophy proposes an antidote. The 
ancient teachers of heathen wisdom off'ered as a 
substitute for the goods of fortune, moderated de- 
sires, and pleasures founded in virtue. The 
Stoics advocated the impracticable theory, that 
the soul should be unaffected by all the mutations 
of earth. Some of the philosophers of ancient 
Greece soared as high as man's wisdom can hope 
to reach, without the aid of Inspiration. They 
counselled man to rise in the majesty of his na- 
ture, above material things. But they took not 
into account that latent infirmity, by which, when 



RELIGION. 35 

''* he would do good, evil was present with him." 
Their system was like the cold moonbeam, fa- 
ding before the day-star from on high. It was 
wholly inadequate to sustain, under those severer 
trials, the loss of friends, and the darkness that 
enwraps the gi-ave. It lay crushed at the tomb, 
where the mourner left his fondest affections, or 
stood appalled and silent, when the dying passed 
the threshold of Eternity. 

It is reserved for a " better covenant," to lead 
the desolated heart, not to " sorrow as without 
hope." With what a burst of despair does Quin- 
tilian exclaim, after the death of his wife and 
children : " All that I now possess, is for aliens, 
and no longer mine. Henceforth, my wealth and 
my writings, the fruits of a long and painful life, 
must be reserved only for strangers." 

The bereaved, and eloquent son of the Ameri- 
can forests, inquires in agony, " Who is there to 
mourn for Logan ? Not one. There runs not a 
drop of my blood, in the veins of any living crea- 
ture." 

The Idumean, when the destroying angel had 
made '' desolate all his company," — acknowledged, 
" The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away : 
blessed be the name of the Lord^ His grieved 
heart bemoaned not his heirless wealth, his un- 
transmitted renown — his desolated home — but 
turning to the First Unerring Cause, praised the 
mercy, which, though concealed in the blackness 
of darkness, was mercy still. It is surely a divine 



86 RELIGION. 

alchymy, which presents, hke gold from the refi- 
ners ciTicible, the spirit purified by the fires that 
dissolved it. 

A faith, more perfect than the lore which Greek 
or Roman taught, is requisite to console the be- 
reaved parent, who taking in his arms his most 
cherished idols, bears them, one after the other, 
tJn-ough the dark valley of the shadow of death. 
** Yesterday, I saw the brittle broken : — to day, I 
see the mortal dead," said Epictetus to the wo- 
man, who one evening regretted her broken vase, 
and the next, wept for her lifeless son. But he 
was unable to assure her, "Thy dead shall arise 
again." — " I shall go to him, but he shall not return 
to me," said the- King of Israel, over the form of 
his lifeless infant. " My children are all dead ; 
there is not one now, to stand between me and my 
God," said a Christian-mother of our ow^n tmies, as 
she turned in sainted meekness to her lonely duties. 

But if heathen philosophy failed to sooth the 
mourner, to the dying, she was still more emphat- 
ically, " a physician of no value." She might 
supply the pride, or excuse the weakness, with 
which her votaries rushed upon the dagger's pointy 
when life was joyless. But to which of them 
could she vouchsafe that sweet and holy confi- 
dence, w^th which the departing Hooker exclaim- 
ed : " By God's grace, I have loved him in my 
youth, and feared him in my age, and laboured to 
have a conscience void of offence, towards him and 
towards all men."^ 



RELIGION. S7 

And now, cherished and lovely beings, just 
commencing to ascend the hill of life, looking 
around you, like timid and beautiful strangers, for 
the greenest paths, or the most approved guides on 
your devious pilgrimage, if there was a science 
capable of imparting unbounded happiness, and 
of continuing that happiness, when age disquali- 
fies the mind for other researches — a science 
which surmounts that grave, where all earthly 
glory lays down its laurel, and fixes a firm grasp 
on heaven, when earth recedes, how must she be 
pitied who neglects its acquisition. And there iaj 
such a science. And there is peril in disregarding 
it. Truly impressive were the words of Queen 
Elizabeth's secretary of state, to the bishops who 
surrounded his death-bed : '^ Ah ! how great a 
pity, that we men should not feel for what end we 
are born into this world, till we are just on the 
point of quitting it." 

If there were a book, that astonished both by its- 
wisdom and its antiquity — ^that delighted alike by 
history, oratory and poetry — in theory and illus- 
tration, equally simple and sublime, yielding to 
the comprehension of the unlearned, yet reveal- 
ing to the critick, the finger of Deity — a book 
which the wise have pronounced superior to all 
beside, and the learned retained for daily study 
when all others were dismissed — how anxious 
should we be to obtain it, how impatient to be 
made acquainted with its contents. And there is 
such a book. And for want of the knowledge of 

A. 



38 RELIGION. 

it, how many regions of the earth, are but the 
'' habitations of cruelty." — " More wisdom, com- 
fort, and pleasure, are to be found in retiring and 
turning your heart from the world, and reading 
with the good Spirit of God, his sacred Word, 
than in all the courts and all the favours of prin- 
ces," said one, w^ho had enjoyed the pomp and 
distinction of a court. 

If there were a day, when it was lawful to turn 
from all labour, vanity and care — to take home to 
the heart, only those images which make it better 
' — and to associate in spirit not only with the good 
of all ages, but with cherubim and seraphim around 
the Throne — should we not hail its approach amid 
the weariness of life ? And there is such a day 
The pious greet it, as a foretaste of heaven's rest. 
The wise have pronounced its influence propi- 
tious, even upon their temporal concerns. " I have 
found," says Sir Matthew Hale, " by strict and 
diligent observation, that a due observance of the 
duties of the Sabbath, hath ever brought with it a 
blessing on the rest of my time, and the week so 
begun hath been prosperous unto me." 

If there was a friend, whose sjrmpathies never 
slumbered, whose judgment never erred, whose 
power had no hmit — a friend acquainted with all 
cm* wants, and able to supply them — with our 
secret sorrows, and ready to relieve them — should 
we not be urgent to seek his presence, and grate- 
ful to express our desires ? And there is such a 
friend — such a mode of access '^ " Eight^^'-and 



RELiGlOW. 39 

mx years, have I served him," said the venerable 
Polycarp, " and he hath never done me aught but 
good." — " All things forsake me, except my God, 
my duty, and my prayers," said the noble states- 
man, whose long life comprehended the reign of 
five sovereigns of England, and whose career had 
been dignified by the honours which are coveted 
among men. 

It would be easy to multiply suffrages in favour 
of religion, from those who have been illustrious 
in the paths of science, as well as upon the heights 
of power. The learned Selden, whose . attain- 
ments were so various and profound, that he was 
sometimes called the " living dictionary '* re- 
marks, at the close of life : " I have taken pains to 
know every thing esteemed worth knowing among 
men, yet of all my disquisitions and readings, 
nothing now remains to comfort me, but this pas- 
sage of St. Paul, ' It is a faithful saying, and 
worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came 
into the world to save sinners.'" — " Our religion,'' 
says the clear-minded Pascal, " awing those whom 
it justifies, and comforting those whom it reproves, 
so wisely tempereth hope with fear, that it abases 
us infinitely more than unassisted reason could 
do, yet without driving us to despair, while it 
exalts us infinitely more than the pride of our 
nature could do — yet without rendering us vain." 
We gather collateral testimony, even from 
[leathen lore. Seneca admonishes us, that 
* were^ it not for heavenly contemplations, it had 



not been worth our while to have come nito tm^ 
world." 

We cannot but feel that we are beings of a two* 
fold nature — that our journey to the tomb is shorty 
and the existence beyond it immortal. Is there 
any attainment that we may reserve, when we lay 
down the body ? We know, that of the gold 
which perishes, we may take none with us, when 
dust returneth to dust. Of the treasures which 
the mind accumulates, may we cany aught with 
us, to that bourne, whence no traveller returns ? 

We ntay have been delighted with the studies 
of Nature, and penetrated into those caverns, 
where she perfects her chymistry in secret. Com-^ 
posing and decomposing — changing matter into 
nameless forms — pursuing the subtilest essences 
through the air, and resolving even that air into 
its original elements — what will be the gain, when 
we pass from material to immaterial, and this 
great museum and laboratory, the time-worn 
earth, shall dissolve in its own central fires ? 

We may have become adepts in the physiology 
of man — scanning the mechanism of the eye, till 
light itself unfolded its invisible laws — of the ear, 
till its most hidden reticulations confessed their 
mysterious agency with sound — of the heart, till 
that citadel of life revealed its hermit-policy : but 
will these researches be available, in a state of 
being, which " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard — 
nor the heart of man conceived ?" 

Will he who fathoms the waters, and computes 



their pressure and power, have need of this skill, 
" where there is no more sea ?" Will the mathe- 
matician exercise the lore, by which he measm-ed 
the heavens — or the astronomer, the science which 
discovered the stars, when called to go beyond 
their light ? 

Those who have penetrated most deeply into 
the intellectual structure of man, lifted the curtain 
from the birthplace of thought, traced the springs 
of action to their fountain, and thrown the veiled 
and shrinking motive into the crucible, perceive 
the object of their study, taking a new form, en- 
tering disembodied an imknown state of existence, 
and receiving powers adapted to its laws, and 
modes of intercourse. 

We have no proof that the sciences, to which 
years of labour have been devoted, will survive 
the tomb. But the impressions they have made — 
the dispositions they have nurtured — the good or 
evil, they have helped to stamp upon the soul — will 
go with it into Eternity. The adoring awe, the 
deep humility, inspired by the study of the planets 
and their laws — the love of truth, which he chei- 
ished, who pursued the science that demonstrates 
it — will find a response among angels and archan- 
gels. The praise that w^as learned amid the mel- 
odies of nature — or from the lyre of consecrated 
genius — may pour its perfected tones from a 
seraph's harp. T'he goodness taught in the whole 
frame of Creation — by the flower lifting its honey- 
cup to the insect, and the leaf drawing its green 



42 RELIGION. 

curtain round the nursing-chamber of the smallest 
bird ; by the pure stream, refreshing both the 
grass and the flocks that feed on it, the tree, and 
the master of its fruits ; the tender charity caught 
from the happiness of the humblest creature — will 
be at home in His presence, who hath pronounced 
himself the " God of love." 

The studies, therefore, which we pursue, as the 
means of intellectual delight, or the instruments of 
acquiring wealth and honour among men, are val- 
uable at the close of life, only as they have pro- 
moted those dispositions which constitute the bliss 
of an unending existence. Tested by its tenden- 
cies beyond the grave. Religion in its bearing:;? 
and results, transcends all other sciences. The 
knowledge which it imparts does not perish with 
the stroke which disunites the body, from its 
ethereal companion. While its precepts lead to 
the highest improvement of this state of proba- 
tion, its spirit is congenial with that ineffable re- 
ward to which we aspire. It is the preparation 
for immortality, w^hich should be daily and hourly 
wrought out, amid all the mutations of time. 

Viewing it only with reference to the present 
life, we perceive its requirements to be privileges. 
The day that it hallows — the volume that it gives 
as our rule of conduct — the prayerful intercourse 
with heaven that it enjoins — the deep penitence — 
the fervent trust in a pure and prompting spirit — 
the self-denial that it imposes on the wayward and 
vengeful passions — its monitions of earth's empti 



K E L 1 G I N . 43 

ness-— its solace under affliction — the chastened 
meekness of its lessons in prosperity — the tender 
and forbearing love which from a Redeemer's ex- 
ample it instils into the heart — tend to renovate, 
to fortify, to sublimate the weakness of our nature, 
and to make it " meet for the inheritance of the 
saints in light." 

Feel it, therefore, my dear young friends, to be 
your duty to be religious. If you acknowledge 
the sacred obligation to " obey your parents," do 
you not owe equal obedience to that Father in 
heaven, whose command is, " give me thine 
heart ?" It is of immense importance that reli- 
gion be secured in youth. Those years which so 
easily take stamp and colouring from surrounding 
objects, impress their own likeness upon a series 
of other years. They may determine the charac 
ter through life, and the destinies of Eternity. 

Suffer me therefore, to say to those who are in 
the fair blossom of their being, that they are un- 
safe while they neglect the guidance of religion. 
Seek her, sweet friends, with prayer, amid the 
hush and holiness of morn, and at eve recall the 
day's deeds, and measure them by her standard, 
and weigh its words and thoughts in her equal 
balance. 

Make that religion, which regulates the heart, 
a constant companion. It has been an error to 
suppose it should be reserved for the higher and 
more trying exigencies of life. Though able to 
sustain unde^ the greatest extremity, it is equally 



44 RELIGION* 

willing to walk in the humblest paths. If it wear 
a brighter robe on the Sabbath, it is still girded 
for the service of every day, and ready to take its 
station by their side, who invoke its aid. It is 
like a thread of gold, which may be continually 
woven into the web of life. If its clew be laid 
aside, except on Sundays, or seasons of prayer, it 
will be difficult to resume. It may be either so 
entangled, or broken, or tarnished, that the tissue 
will be unfit for heaven. 

While you are in the pursuit of piety, do not 
listen to its teachers, in the spirit of criticism, but 
reverently and with meekness. Let it not be your 
aim, to become a sectarian, but a Christian. Avoid 
every feature of bigotry — every temptation to 
polemical controversy. Never dispute about doc- 
trines, or condemn those who may differ from you. 
Leave the defence of tenets to those whom 
Christendom has appointed the champions of her 
faith. It is more fitting for our sex, to be the gen- 
tle guardians of the peace and charity of the Gos- 
pel. Their piety who were last at the cross, and 
first at the sepulchre, should be to cultivate the 
meekness of self-denial and the fervour of faith. 
Receiving the "truth in love," remember that 
every sect has produced both good and evil — that 
all build the foundation of their belief on the same 
book, and place the goal of their hope at the gate 
of the same heaven. Praying that through differ- 
ent roads, every true worshipper, may arrive at 
one glorious inheritance, occupy yourselves less 



RELIGION. 45 

111 scanning the infirmities of others, than in cor- 
recting your own. Take home to your heart, the 
words of the pious King Henry, at the death bed 
of Cardinal Beaufort ; " Forbear to judge, for we 
are sinners all." Choose not to excel in the 
know edge of controverted points — or to convince 
by pungency of argument — or to bewilder by flu- 
ency of speech — but simply to persuade through 
the " beauty of holiness." 

Endeavour that the distinguishing feature of your 
piety, should be that love which the Redeemer 
marked when on earlh, as the test of discipleship, 
and in which the primitive Christians wrapped 
themselves as a garment, when they went from 
persecution to martyrdom, from ** prison unto 
death.*' Cultivate this spirit in your deportment 
and let it beam from your countenance. There is 
no hazard in such emulation. " The desire of 
powder in excess," says Lord Bacon, " caused angels 
to fall ; the desire of knowledge in excess, caus- 
ed man to fall ; but in charity, there is no ex- 
cess — neither man nor angel can be endangered 
by it." 

Religion need not be disjoined from the innocent 
pleasures of life. Its province is to heighten hap- 
piness, as well as to sustain toil, or to sanctify 
affliction. To confine it to seasons of lonely med- 
itation, or disrobe it of its angel-smile, is a mo- 
nastic error. Give it place by the hearth-stone, 
and in the walk among the flowers, where heart 
answers to heart. Let it have part in the music 



46 RELIGION. 

that cheers the domestick circle, and in the fond 
intercourse of sisterly and fraternal love. 

And now, if I have urgently or diffusely incited 
the young to the pursuit of the most excellent, 
most enduring science, it is because in the book 
of divine truth, I have seen the pledge of Omnipo- 
tence, that those who ^' seek early shall find it ;" 
because I have believed, that in the docility of 
their happy season, there was an aptitude for its 
rudiments which time and change might take 
away. 



LETTER III. 

KNOWLEDGE. 

Knowledge is valuable for the pleasure i im- 
parts, for the permanent wealth it secures, and for 
its ennobling influence on the mind. Its excellence 
is more strongly illustrated by contrasting it with 
ignorance. 

" The ignorant man," says an Arabian writer, "is 
dead, even while he walketh upon earth : — nimi- 
bered with the living, he existeth not." The strong 
prejudices, and restricted trains of thought, which 
are common to an unfurnished mind, are obvious 
to all who come in contact with it. Rude man- 
ners, and contempt of just laws, distinguish an un- 
educated community. — " Learning," says Lord Ba- 
con, " doth make the mind gentle, generous, and 
phant to government, while ignorance leaveth it 
churlish, thwarting, and mutinous ; and the evi- 
dence of history doth clear this assertion, inasmuch 
as the most barbarous and unlearned times have 
been the most subject to tumults, seditions, and 
changes." 

The treasures of knowledge have been pro 
nounced, by the wise of all ages, infinitely superioi 
to the *^ gold that perisheth." They display theii 



48 KNOWLEDGE. 

superiority by their power of resisting accident, 
and of adhering to their possessor when all things 
else forsake him. The winds cannot sweep them 
away, nor the flames dissolve, nor the floods devour 
them. — "A/Z that I have is about me," said the 
poet Simonides, with perfect calmness, when, in 
the midst of temped and shipwreck, his com- 
panions w^ere loading .iiemselves with their most 
costly effects, ere they plunged into the deep. — 
Treasures over which the elements can have no 
power, are surely worth the labour of those who 
" dwell in houses of clay." 

The error is sometimes committed of estimating 
knowledge, principally as the instrument of pe- 
cuniary gain. Those who hold this opinion, de- 
gi'ade its excellence. They debase its specifick 
gravity. Such mercenary worshippers are like 
money-changers in a sacred and magnificent tem- 
ple. Its presiding deity sanctions neither their 
trafl&ck or their currency. Know^ledge sought 
with such motives wdll hardly reveal itself in its 
depth and grandeiu:. Ere the imperial purple of 
Rome was sold for mone}^, its glory had departed 
What ennobles the intellect, confers a distinction, 
which silver and gold can never purchase. The 
learned Erasmus maintained this theory, w^hen he 
assigned as a reason for refusing a lucrative office, 
*^I will not be hindered from prosecuting my 
studies, by all the gold in the world." 

Considering knowledge, therefore, as an inalien- 
able possession, wK'ch scorns to be exchanged for 



KNOWLEDGE. 49 

** jeweTs of fine gold," let us trace its effect upon 
the intellect that acquires it. We perceive that it 
imparts strength and dignity, that while it en- 
riches the casket, it enlarges i!s capacity. It gives 
abihty to weigh, to compare, to decide, and a mind 
accustomed to such labours, expands and consoli- 
dates its powers, as a frame inured to healthful ex- 
ercise becomes vigorous and elastick. In cases of 
doubt or difficulty, collecting the concentrated 
experience of past ages, it comes forth to act 
as a counsellor. To use the words of a most 
competent judge, " those who are illuminated 
by learning, do find it whispering ever more in 
their ears, when other counsellors stand mute and 
silent." 

This argument peculiarly recommends it to the 
attention of the yc^:ing. A time must come when 
the voice of the parent-guide will be silent in the 
grave ; when the pupil must pass from under the 
shelter of tutelage to the toils and responsibilities 
of life. Then it will often be necessary to decide 
without advice, and to act without precedent. — 
Judgment laying aside her leading-strings, must 
dare the steep and slippery ascent, biding both 
the buffet and the blast. Then, the stores of a 
w^ell-balanced, well-furnished mind will be put in 
requisition, and the mistakes of ignorance and 
vanity be happily avoided. 

Knowledge opens sources of delightful contem- 
plation for domestick retirement. This renders it a 
peculiar protection to the voung. In their fond- 

5 



60 KNOWLEDGE. 

ness for promiscuous society, they are often in 
danger of forming indiscreet associations, or rash 
attachments. Knowledge makes home pleasant, 
and self-communion no solitude. " When 1 am 
alone, it talks with me, so that I have no need 
to go abroad, and solicit amusement from others," 
said the philosopher Antisthenes. This lineament 
of knowledge, strongly recommends it to our own 
sex, my dear young friends. For home is our 
province — and it is our imperative duty to strive 
to render it agreeable ; and as we are never more 
disposed to be amiable, than when we are happy, 
we shall probably best succeed in imparting feli 
city, when we most enjoy it ourselves. 

Knowledge is also desirable to our sex, as an 
antidote to the narrowness of mind, which grows 
out of minute details and petty cares. It makes 
us intelligent companions, by supplying varied 
and improving subjects of conversation. It cre- 
ates a class of independent enjoyments. From the 
structure of society, as well as from physical 
weakness, we are compelled to rely on the minis- 
try of many agents. By some of these we may 
be ill-served, and by others deceived : it is there- 
fore important to cultivate self-derived and self- 
sustained satisfactions. For us, whose strongest 
affections are in the keeping of others, it is well 
to secure some intellectual solace, ere the props 
on which those affections rest, chance to warp, to 
pierce us, or to pass away. And next to the sup- 
port of that hope which has no rooting m earth, 



KNOWLEDGE. 



61 



and in close affinity with it, are the consolations 
of a well-disciplined, contemplative mind ! 

In our age of the world, knowledge seems re- 
quisite to gain and to preserve respect. Adulation 
is the food of the young and beautiful, but matu- 
rity requires stronger aliment. Nectar and am- 
brosia vanish with the brief goddesship of beauty, 
and she who feels the burdens of life, in their 
dense and uncompromising reality, will gladly 
accept a more substantial nourishment. In order 
to be upheld by the respect of him, whose name 
she bears, and by that of the household which she 
is appointed to govern — it is necessary that she 
should not disgrace them by ignorance. There 
was a period, when humble industry, and virtuous 
example, were all that society demanded of woman. 
That period is past. Education, in conferring 
new privileges, erected a tribunal, where each 
recipient is summoned to " give account of her 
stewardship." The very children of the log-cot- 
tages throughout our land, obey the injunction of 
one of its departed politicians, and " make a cru- 
sade against ignorance." 

More than a century and a half since, when in 
tellectual culture was dealt out with a sparing 
hand, the importance of knowledge to the respect- 
ability and happiness of our sex, was clearly fore- 
seen and stated by a female writer. Miss Ann 
Baynard, a native of our mother-country, asserted 
that it was " sin to be contented loith a little 
knowledge^ Laboriously exemplifying her own 



52 KNOWLEDGK, 

precept, she acquired the ancient languages, as 
tronomy, mathematicks and philosophy. The 
motives which she assigned for perfecting herseli 
in Greek, was, the pleasure of reading Chrysos- 
tom, in his native purity. Her Latin composi- 
tions were applauded for their elegance, by the 
criticks of the day. She made advances in other 
sciences, particularly in metaphysicks. Yet her 
life comprised only tw^enty-five years. Though 
such attainments were in those days far more 
conspicuous than they w^ould be in our own, 
there was about her no pride of science. In her 
deportment, she was simple and micek — benevo- 
lent to the poor, and of sincere piety. She 
evinced the natural alliance between profound 
knowledge and humility. On her death-bed, she 
requested her clergyman to incite all the youth of 
his charge, to the pursuit of learning and wisdom, 
as the means of durable happiness. " Would wo 
men," she writes, " but spend half of that time in 
study and thinking, which they do, in visiting, van- 
ity and folly, it would induce composure of mind, 
and lay a basis for wdsdom and knowledge, by 
which they might be far better enabled to serve 
God, and to help their neighbours." 

A similar testimony was given in still earlier 
times, by Margaret, the mother of King Henry 
Vn., who to the possession of learning added 
its munificent patronage. She was the founder of 
two colleges, connected with the University of 
Cambridge — read and wrote with facility in the 



KNOWLEDGE. 53 

Latin and French languages — and collected a 
library, both valuable and extensive for those 
times. 

But those who have it not in their power to 
encourage learning by liberal donations, or even 
to devote any important portion of their lives to 
study, may still be so convinced of the value of a 
good education, as to consider no labour too great 
to obtain it. Though our favoured age furnishes 
unprecedented opportunities for this resuU, yet 
they will be found insufficient, without vigorous 
effort. All the aids of affluence, and the incite- 
ments of parental love, will be powerless without 
persevering study. If the physician pronounces 
the voluntary co-operalion of his patient, essential 
to the perfect effect of medicine, how much more 
necessary is mental regimen, to the great object of 
correct education ? It will be in vain, that books, 
initiating into the various sciences, have proceed- 
ed from our most powerful pens — that minds of 
the highest talent bow to the business of instruc- 
tion — unless those who acquire knowledge, are 
willing to incur the labour of profound thought. 
Elementary principles must be committed by pa- 
tient repetition, and trains of thought deepened by 
habits of reflection. It is not in the unbroken 
surface of sloth, or among the weeds of a roving 
intellect, that knowledge deigns to deposite those 
seeds, whose well-ripened fruits are for the winter 
of life. Severe and tireless application is the cur- 
rency in the realm of learning. And to pursue 



54 KNOWLEDGE. 

the metaphor, memory is the mint, where this 
coinage receives its impression. 

If we beheve with Plato, that " all knowledge 
is but remembrance," we cannot take too much 
pains to strengthen the retentive power. Without 
it, there can be no imperishable mental wealth. 
If any young person says with sincerity, " I have 
no memory," she pronounces herself a vassal in 
the empire of mind. If she makes this avowal 
carelessly, or without compunction, she deserves 
to be for ever a " hewer of wood and a drawer of 
water," among those whom knowledge ennobles. 
But a weak memory, or what is colloquially called 
"no memory at all," will yet reveal a principle of 
vitality, sufficient to justify and repay assiduous 
nursing-care For if memory has been philoso- 
phically analyzed into the element of " fixed atten- 
tion," it would seem to be within the reach of all, 
who have power over their own perceptions. So 
it undoubtedly is — but not without perseverance. 

When you read, what it is desirable to retain, 
dismiss every extraneous thought. If this cannot 
be done in the company of others, become a silent 
and separate student. Let your first requisitions 
on memory be short, but thorough, repeated daily, 
and as far as possible, at the same period of the 
day. Every night, review deliberately and clearly 
what has been gained. At the close of every 
week, abridge in writing, the subjects that you 
deem most valuable. At the close of every month, 
recapitulate, select and arrange, from this record, 



KNOWLEDGE* 55 

the most important parts, and write them neatly in 
a book kept for that purpose — but not in the Ian 
guage of the author ; and if possible, without ref- 
erence to him at all. Let this be a repository of 
condensed knowledge, the pure gold of thought. 
Select from it, fitting subjects for conversation, and 
view knowledge in all its aspects, ere you commit 
it irrevocably to the casket of the soul. 

Such a process cannot be continued faithfully 
for a year, without perceptible benefit to memory. 
Command its services freely, as a monarch does 
those of a loyal subject. Never allow yourself to 
say, without self-reproach, " I have forgotten." 
If memory is under your control, why should you 
forget ? If it is not, whose is the fault ? Even a 
child is in danger, who says " I forgot," and feels 
no shame. 

In your earliest discipline of memory, be care- 
ful not to afford it too many aids. Its journey up 
the cliff of knowledge may be painful, and its re- 
quisitions among the duties of life, will be surely 
severe. Make it athletick by exercise, like the 
son of a peasant. Bring home the substance ol 
sermons, or lectures on the sciences, without 
the aid of pencil and paper. If you wish to pre- 
serve it for others, abridge it after you return 
home, but never take notes while you listen. It 
too much excuses memory from its trust. In pe- 
rusing books, never use marks, to denote the 
stages of your progress. If the contents are not 
sufficiently striking to furnish a clew for recalling 



Ud KNOWLEDGE. 

the mind, charge memory with the number of the 
chapter, or the page where you discontinued to 
read. If neither the spirit, style, or numerical 
adjuncts of the book, can be so clearly restored, as 
to designate the point at which you left it, what 
benefit do you propose, from proceeding in its pe- 
rusal ? It is much reading without proper atten- 
tion — it is miscellaneous aliment without digestion, 
that paralyze memory, and induce morbid habits 
of mind. Hold no rule in slight estimation, that 
will enable you to invigorate the retentive power 
Persevere in this regimen, until you are familiar 
with the intense delight of knowledge w^on by toil. 
Then you may be assured that the most formida- 
ble stage in the discipline of memory is surmount- 
ed ; for as it regards the action of the mind, know- 
ledge and remembrance are indivisible. Would 
hat I could convince all my fair, young readers, 
of the value of perseverance. Its importance to 
om* ow^n sex, has seldom been more strikingly 
exemplified than in the instance of Miss Elizabeth 
Carter. She early formed a resolution of acquir- 
ing a learned education. To overcome existing 
obstacles, she was scarcely outdone by Demos- 
thenes, in untiring effort. Nature opposed her 
design. Her infancy and early youth, gave no in- 
dication of the eminence that she afterward obtain- 
ed. Her perceptions were unusually slow. The 
rudiments of science were acquired with incredi- 
ble labour. She had a continual tendency to fall 
asleep, whenever she attempted mental applica- 



KNOWLEDGE. 57 

tion. The obtuseness of comprehension with 
which she encountered the impediments that op- 
pose entrance into the dead languages, exhausted 
the patience of even her excellent father. He 
besought her to give up all ambition of becoming 
a scholar. But nothing could shake her perseve- 
rance. And its victor)^ was complete. What she 
once gained, she never lost. The severe labour 
to which she submitted, earned this recompense, 
which quickness of perception seldom attains. 

She early acquired the Hebrew, Greek, and 
Latin languages. The first, she continued to read 
daily, even in extreme old age. Of the second, 
her knowledge was critically correct, as her trans- 
lation of Epictetus proves. Dr. Johnson, in speak- 
ing of a celebrated scholar, said, he understood 
Greek better than any one whom he had ever 
known, except Elizabeth Carter. The French lan- 
guage, she understood thoroughly, and spoke with 
fluency. ' Italian, Spanish, and German, she 
taught herself without assistance. From the last, 
she received very high enjoyment. Portuguese 
and Arabick, she also added. For her own use, 
she constructed an Arabick dictionary, containing 
various explanations, and combinations of words, 
which she perceived, from her ow^n reading, to have 
been misconceived, or ill-translated. To her un- 
common proficiency in classick and historick lore, 
she united a knowledge of astronomy and ancient 
geography, poetry and theology. The Holy 
Scriptures were her daily and delightful study. 



68 RNOWLEBGE, 

Though her attainments were viewed with 
wonder, and gained her the friendship of some of 
the best and most talented in her native realm, she 
sought not to possess learning for the purposes of 
display. Her long life of meekness and piety, 
spoke a far different language. 

No stronger example can be adduced of the 
force and value of perseverance. Those of our 
own sex, whose taste would not lead them to the 
acquisition of diflScult languages, or to a life of 
science and contemplation, will find this excellent 
virtue equally prevalent, in any other modification 
of duty, or channel of pursuit. 

Want of fixedness of purpose, is but too gener- 
ally a fault of the young. Indeed, to so many 
employments, are the minds of young ladies di- 
rected, that it is exceedingly difficult to preserve 
unity of design. But of one thing, they should 
never lose sight ; the danger of neglecting to im- 
prove to the utmost, the priceless privileges of 
their season of life. Then, the mind comes forth 
in freshness and beauty. Cares have not pre-oc- 
cupied it — nor contradictory trains of thought 
stamped upon it a desultory character. " It turn- 
eth as wax to the seal." How often, ere we un- 
derstand the worth of this pliancy, does rigidity 
steal over the fibres of thought, and the buddings 
of character take a determinate form, and we are 
young no more. 

It was Cato the censor, who having imperfectly 
estimated this precious season, awoke to a late 



KNOWLEDGE. 59 

repentance, and at the age of sixty desired again 
to become a scholar, and to study Greek, The 
habit sometimes formed by j^oung persons, of ex- 
cusing their deficiencies on the plea of want of 
time, is detrimental to improvement. Time ought 
to be found for every important requisition. The 
same management that secures it for amusement, 
will secure it for study. "When any effort involv- 
ing labour is proposed, few will allege want of 
inclination, but many will shelter themselves under 
the broad banner of want of time. " / had no 
time,^^ may be considered as the knell of excel- 
lence. The great and the good, find time for all 
that appertains to greatness or goodness. " I will 
hear thee at a more convenient season," said the 
Roman, to the warning Apostle, when at his pun- 
gent arguments, conscience trembled. The In- 
spired Volume does not inform us, w^hether that 
convenient season ever came. What the '^ con- 
venient season" was, to the lost soul, is the '' no 
time" to the negligent student It is a barrier 
thrown up, to keep others from the truth, and her- 
self from wisdom. It is the dialect which indo- 
lence borrows, when she is ashamed of her own. 

As our highest privileges are not exempt from 
abuse, the very redundancy of benefits which the 
present age lavishes upon our sex, involves danger. 
The change has been sudden. The flood of light 
burst upon the eye, ere it had been gradually led 
from surrounding darkness. Our grandmothers 
had only the simple training which suffices for 



60 KNOWLEDGE. 

** household-good." Our grand-daughters may 
have an opportunity of becoming professors 
When we have learned to meet deliberately this 
influx of intellectual prosperity — and each fluctu- 
ating element has subsided to its true level, it will 
be found that sufficient time is not allowed to com- 
plete the process. Why should not the period be 
equal to that allotted to the other sex ? Is it not 
important that a broad foundation be laid by those 
from whom so much is expected ? and who have 
the character of sowing the seeds of most of the 
good and evil which exist in the world ? To a 
young lady, whose regular period of study ter- 
minates with the first fifteen or sixteen years of 
life, there '' remaineth still, very much land to be 
possessed." Yet how is she to become its pos- 
sessor, when the novelties of fashionable amuse- 
ment, and the cares of woman's lot, stand in array 
against her more formidably than the " Amorites, 
and the Hivites, and the Perizzites," w^iom the 
children of Israel attacked, but were never able 

K wholly to subdue. 

/ The system pursued in our mother-country is 

more rational. The space allotted to education is 
longer, and not interrupted by promiscuous visit 
ing, or exciting amusement. It is both reckless 
and cruel, for those who guide the young, to ex- 
pose them to the fascinations of gay society, during 
the years allotted to scholastick study. A period 
originally too brief for the great work which is to 
be achieved, is thus rendered stiM more insufficient 



KNOWLEDGE. 61 

The imagination is occupied by extraneous ima- 
gery, and the mind exposed to gilded and profitless 
reveries, when it should be girded up for faithful 
and patient labour. 

The social principle, which, throughout life, de- 
serves and rewards culture, cannot so safely ex- 
pand, during the season of school-education, as in 
the company of those engaged in similar pursuits, 
or of those still older and wiser friends, who know 
how to blend instruction with delight. Unless 
that narrow span which is set apart by the com- 
munity as sacred to education, be zealously guard- 
ed for the young by those who love them, how can 
they escape an irretrievable loss ? They may in 
deed acquire the reputation of knowledge without 
possessing it. But are they willing to shelter 
themselves under false devices, to incur the per- 
petual labour of wearing a mask, and the hazard 
of detection ? Ignorance is always obvious to the 
eye of a true scholar, however it may entrench 
itself in cunning devices. The invention of eking 
out the lion's skin with the fox's, though an an- 
cient and classical artifice, is not wise. Least oi 
all, is it fitting in woman, whose sweetest graces 
are simplicity and purity. Let the young be as 
sured, that for whatever toil or privation they sus 
tain, knowledge hath a surpassing payment of pres 
ent pleasure and of future gain. When like her, 
who some three centuries since, preferred at the 
age of sixteen, solitude and Plato, to the haunts ol 
fasliionable gayety — they taste the true sweetness 



62 KNOWLEDGE. 

rf knowledge — they will pronounce the period ap- 
propriated to its attainment, as the most privileged 
part of their existence. 

The sentiment that education is complete, when 
school-days are past, is too plainly erroneous to 
require argument. Their oifice has been well per- 
formed, if they have so trained the mind, as to en- 
able it to continue its own education ; if they have 
given it the wisdom to consider itself a learner, 
throughout the whole of this earthly probation. 
Still viewing itself but as a searcher after know- 
ledge and truth, it should bear about with it, and 
daily deepen the motto of " not having yet attain- 
ed — neither being already perfect." It was one 
of the greatest philosophers, who asserted that the 
mind ought ever to consider itself " susceptible 
both of growth and reformation ; and that the tru- 
ly learned man, will always intermix the correc- 
tion and amendment of his intellect, with the use 
and employment thereof." It is most surely ap- 
propriate for our sex, to disclaim all fellowship 
with pride and prejudice, and humbly to seek after 
wisdom, all the days of their lives. 

To you, who, just emancipated from the re- 
straints of " tutors and governors," stand joyously 
in your youth and beauty, upon that " isthmus of 
a middle state," which divides the sports of child- 
hood from the responsibilities of womanly duty, 
suffer me to say, from the love I bear you, that 
your education is but just begun. Every thing 
around you will conspire to carry on the work. 



Knowledge 63 

Associates, friends, those to whom you intrust 
your affections, are instruments to test the basis 
of your principles, and complete the development 
of your character. The books you read, the com- 
panions with whom you converse, the dispositions 
that you cherish, may prove as soft showers to the 
springing grass — or as mildews to the buds of 
virtue. 

Those whom you teach, will teach you — ^those 
w^ho serve you, will influence you in their turn. 
The reaction is perpetual. 

The opinions and i ^bits of those with whom 
you are most conversant, will insensibly, but in- 
delibly stamp some impression upon your own. 
They will enter into the sanctuary of the soul — 
and hang up in its secret shrine, their own images. 

Be ever docile, my dear frier.ds, to the hallow- 
ed teachings of knowledge and virtue, and see that 
the influences which proceed from yourselves, are 
of the same sacred class. For circumstances, re- 
latives, the silent lapse of time, and the sleepless 
discipline of your heavenly Father, will continue 
your education until death takes light from the 
eye, and motion from the hand, and vitality from 
the heart, and releasing the organs from their obe 
dience to the ruling mind, lays the head where 
there is neither knowledge — nor device — ^noi 
wisdom. 



LETTER IV 

INDUSTRY, 

The faithful use of our intrusted powers, is but 
a just return for the privilege of possessing them. 
Capacities for improvement, and opportunities of 
usefulness, involve accountabihty, and demand dil- 
igence. As duty is connected with enjoyment, 
Industry is the visible friend of happiness and vir- 
tue. It adapts the gifts of the Creator, to the ends 
which he designed. We are excited to it, by the 
examples and analogies of nature. 

The little rill hastens onward to the broader 
stream, cheering the flowers on its margin, and 
singing to the pebbles in their bed. The river 
rushes to the sea, dispensing on a broader scale, 
fertility and beauty. Ocean, receiving his thou- 
sand tribute-streams, and swelling his ceaseless 
thunder-hymn, bears to their desired haven, those 
white-winged messengers which promote the com- 
fort and wealth of man, and act as envoys between 
remotest climes. In the secret bosom of the earth, 
the little heart of the committed seed quickens, 
circulation commences, the slender radicles ex- 
pand, the newborn plant lifts a timid eye to the 
sunbeam — the blossoms diffuse odour — the gram 



INDUSTRY, 65 

whitens for the reaper — the tree perfects its fruit. 
Nature is never idle. 

Lessons of industry, come also from insect- 
teachers, from the winged chymist in the bell of 
ihe hyacinth, and the political economist bearing 
the kernel of corn, to its subterranean magazine 
The blind pinn^e spins in the ocean, and the silk- 
worm in its leaf-carpeted chamber, and the spider, 
" taking hold with its hands, is in king's palaces." 
The bird gathers food for itself, and for its helpless 
claimants with songs of love, or spreading a mi- 
gratory wing, hangs its slight architecture on the 
palm-branch of Africa, the wind-swept and scanty 
fohage of the orcades, or the slender, sky-piercing 
minaret of the Moslem. The domestick animals 
fill their different spheres, according to the grades 
of intelligence allotted them. Man, whose en- 
dowments are so noble, ought not surely to 
be surpassed in faithfulness, by the inferior cre- 
ation. 

It is evident disrespect to our bountiful Bene- 
factor, to divide his gifts from their appointed use 
and benefit. When we contemplate the wonder 
ful mechanism of the hand, and the far more as- 
tonishing skill of the mind that guides it, when we 
reflect how much labour is required to make our- 
selves what we wish to be, and to do for others 
what we ought — when we look beyond this life to 
the next, and feel that not only on what we do 
here, but on what we omit to do, depend conse 
quences which Eternity alone can measure, we 

6* 



66 INDUSTRY, 

are convinced of the truth of the precept, that in- 
dolence is not made for man. 

Admitting, therefore, the propriety and neces 
sity of industry, let us exhibit the principle in its 
practical forms. It should be mingled in its most 
decided aspects, with the period of school-educa- 
tion. That season, when those elements of know^- 
ledge are acquired, which in some form or other 
continue to blend with the mass of character and 
duty, during the whole of life, is too precious to 
be trifled away. She who is careless in forming 
habits of application, or walling to curtail hours of 
study, fearfully defrauds herself. " If you have 
great talents," said Sir Joshua Reynolds, " indus- 
try wall improve them — if you have moderate 
abilities, industry wall supply their deficiency. 
Nothing is denied to well-directed labour — nothing 
is to be obtained without it." 

A young lady, during the course of her instruc- 
tion in the sciences, came to the conclusion that 
she had no memory for historical dates, or facts 
involving numerical statements. In her recitations 
she resorted to the subterfuge of referring to slips 
of paper, which she adroitly concealed. When it 
became difficult to escape detection, she wrote 
such chronological eras as occurred in her lessons, 
in the palm of her hand. Half the labour which 
this deception involved, would have enabled her to 
commit them to memory, thoroughly and irrevo- 
cably. The consequence was, that after the com- 
pletion of an extensive course of study, she was 



INDUSTRY. 67 

Utterly destitute of that chronology which is to his- 
tory what the key-stone is to the arch. The mass 
which she had accumlilated, having neither ar- 
rangement, or relative dependance, relapsed into 
chaos. Fiagment after fragment disappeared, mi- 
til the whole vanished away. Indolence had de- 
prived it of those strong tendrils, by which it would 
have adhered to the mind. Of the history of the 
world, from its creation to her own times, to which 
she had devoted years of study, she might soon 
have been able to say with Shakspeare : — 

** I remember a dream, but nothing distinctly, 
A quarrel, but nothing wherefore." 

And the loss was through her own folly. Let 
those who now sustain the interesting character of 
scholar, see that they suffer no similar misfortune, 
from any modification of indolence. Were it pos- 
sible fully to impress the value of that period of 
existence, ere it passes, never to return, how many 
who are now impatient of its restraints, would de- 
sire to prolong its duration. Could they realize 
that when life has drawn them within its sphere 
of labour — though books are always to be found, 
there may be no leisure to read them — or they 
may be perused without leaving a single abiding 
impression on a mind harassed by perplexity and 
care — they would be anxious that every day of 
their school-education, should deposite in the store- 
house of intellect, some treasure that might be safe 
from the water-floods of time. 



68 INDUSTRY. 

Habits of diligence are recommended by the 
happiness they impart. Indolence is a foe to en- 
joyment. " There is nothing among all the cares 
and burdens of a king," said Lewis XIV., to the 
prince his son, '' so laborious as idleness,^'' It is 
a dereliction of duty. It is disobedience to the 
command of our Creator. While in bondage to it, 
we cannot enjoy self-approbation. Rust gathers 
over the mind, and corrodes its powers. Melan- 
choly weighs down the spirits, and the conscious- 
ness of having lived in vain, imbitters reflection. 
Whatever establishes a habit of regular industry, 
in early life, is a blessing. Even those reverses 
of fortune, which are accounted calamities, some- 
times call into action energies, with which the 
possessor was previously unacquainted, and lead 
to higher degrees of respectability and happiness, 
than affluence, in its lassitude or luxury, could ever 
have attained. 

Early rising seems generally to have been as 
sociated with the industry of those who have at- 
tained eminence. " I am sorry," said Demos- 
thenes, "when I hear any workman at his ham- 
mer before me." The elder Pliny assigned as 
one of the reasons w^hy he accomplished so much, 
that he was an early-riser. He was accustomed 
to go before daybreak, to receive the orders of 
the emperor Vespasian, w^ho himself did not 
waste the precious morning hours in slumber. 
BufTon, the celebrated naturalist, rose throughout 
the year, with the sun. In order to do this, he had 



INDUSTRY. 69 

to conquer an almost inveterate disposition for 
morning sleep. He acknowledged himself in- 
debted for this victory to his servant, who reso- 
lutely awakened him, until a better habit was 
formed — and said that to his perseverance, the 
world was also indebted for at least ten or twelve 
volumes of his Natural History. The Rev. Mr. 
John Wesley, was a most conspicuous instance of 
unvarying mdustry, and economy of time. On his 
eighty-fifth birthday, he records in his journal, as 
among the causes of his continued health, and un- 
impaired vigour, that he had " constantly for sixty 
years, risen at four in the morning ; and preached 
a regular lecture at five in the morning, for above 
half a century." 

Those of our sex, who have been distinguished 
by energy in the domestick department, are usually 
exemplary for their improvement of the early 
hours of the day. A knowledge of those pursuits 
which promote the comfort and order of a house- 
hold, should be interwoven with classical educa- 
tion. It may be so mingled, as to relieve, rather 
than obstruct, intellectual labours. 

I have never heard any young lady, deny m 
words, the excellence of industry, and have known 
manjr, who put forth vigorous efforts for the im 
provement of their most precious season of life. 
But I have seen no class of people, among whom 
a more efficient system of industry and economy 
of time was established, than the agricultural pop- 
ulation of New England. Their possessions are 



70 INDUSTRY. 

not sufficiently large to allow waste of any descrip- 
tion. Hence, every article seems to be carefully 
estimated, and applied to its best use. Their 
mode of life, is as favourable to cheerfulness and 
health, as it is eminent in industry. 

The farmer, rising with the dawn, attends U 
those employments which are necessary for the 
comfort of the family, and proceeds early with his 
sons or assistants, to their department of daily la- 
bour. The birds enliven them with their song, 
and the lambs gambol, while the patient ox marks 
the deep furrow, or the grain is committed to the 
earth, or the tall grass humbled beneath the 
scythe, or the stately corn freed from the intrusion 
of weeds. Fitting tasks are proportioned to the 
youngest ones, that no hand may be idle. 

In the interior of the house, an equal diligence 
prevails. The elder daughters take willing part 
with the mother, in every domestick toil. No ser- 
vant is there, to create suspicious feelings, or a 
divided interest. No key grates in the lock, for 
all are as brethren. The children, who are too 
small to be useful, proceed to school, kindly lead- 
ing the little one, who can scarcely walk. Per 
haps the aged grandmother, a welcome and hon 
oured inmate, amuses the ruddy infant, that she 
may release a stronger hand for toil. 

The sound of the wheel, and the vigorous 
strokes of the loom, are heard. The fleece of the 
sheep is wrought up, amid the cheerful song of 
sisters. Remembering that the fabricks which 



INDUSTRY. 71 

they produce, will guard those whom they love^ 
from the blast of winter, the bloom deepens on 
their cheek w^ith the pleasing consciousness of use- 
ful industry. 

In the simple and abundant supply of a tablcj^ 
from their own resources, which shall refresh 
* those who return weary from the field, all are in- 
terested. The boy, who brings his mother the 
fresh vegetables, selects a salad which his own 
hand had cultivated, with some portion of the pride 
with which Diocletian pointed to the cabbages 
which he had reared. The daughter, who gathers 
treasures from the nests of the poultry that she 
feeds, delights to tell their history, and to number 
her young ducks as they swim forth boldly on 
the pond. The bees, whose hives range neai 
the door, add a desert to their repast, and the 
cows feeding quietly in rich pastures, yield pure 
nutriment for the little ones. For their bread, 
they have '' sown, and reaped, and gathered into 
barns ;" the flesh is from their own flocks — the 
fruit and nuts from their own trees. The children 
know w^here the first berries ripen, and when the 
chestnut will open its thorny sheath in the forest. 
The happy farmer at his independent table, need 
not envy the luxury of kings. 

The active matron strives to lessen the expen- 
ses of her husband, and to increase his gains^ 
She sends to market, the wealth of her dairy, and 
the surplus produce of her loom. She instructs 
her daughters bv their diligence to have a purse 



72 INDUSTRY. 

of their own, from which to furnish ihe more deh 
cate parts of their wardrobe, and to reheve the 
poor. In the long evenings of winter, she phes 
the needle, or knits stockings with them, or main- 
tains the quiet musick of the flax-wheel, from 
whence linen is prepared for the family. She in- 
cites them never to eat the bread of idleness, and 
as they have been trained, so will they train others 
again ; for the seeds of industry are perennial. 

The father and brothers, having recess from the 
toils of busier seasons, read aloud, such books as 
are procured from the public library, and know- 
ledge thus entering in with industry, and domestick 
order, forms a hallowed alliance. The most shel- 
tered corner by the ample fireside, is reserved for 
the hoary grandparents, who in plenty and pious 
content pass the eve of a well-spent life. 

The sacred hymn and prayer, rising duly from 
such households, is acceptable to Heaven. To 
their humble scenery — some of our wisest and 
most illustrious men, rulers of the people, sages 
and interpreters of the law of God — look back 
tenderly, as their birthplace. They love to ac- 
knowledge that in the mdustry and discipline of 
early years, was laid the foundation of their great- 
ness. 

Let the children of farmers feel that their de- 
scent is from the nobility of our land. In the 
homes where they were nurtured, are the strong- 
holds of the virtue and independence of their coun- 
try. If our teeming manufactories should send 



INDUSTRY, ^ "73 

forth an enervated or uninstructed race — and our 
cities foster the growth of pomp, or the elements 
of discord — we hope that from those peaceful 
farm-houses, will go forth a redeeming spirit, to 
guard and renovate the country of their love. 

I trust that no young lady, however elevated her 
station, will conceive that a knowledge of what 
appertains to the superintendance of a family, can 
derogate from lier dignity. 

If the greater advantages which are accorded 
her, create contempt for the duties of her own wo- 
manly sphere, it is a serious and unhappy result. 
If that sex, through whose liberality greater privi- 
leges have been extended to ours, are to be ren- 
dered less comfortable in their homes, at their ta- 
bles, or by their firesides, it is truly a most un- 
grateful return. 

Many causes conspire to attach gi*eat impor- 
tance to the stand, which is to be taken, by the 
young ladies of the present generation. Criticism 
is awake to discover what effect their more liberar 
education will have on the welfare of domestick 
life. Before them, were a race of accomplished 
housekeepers, perfect in their ranks, whose fami- 
lies were as regular as clockwork, and whose 
children early learned the lesson to obey. Not to 
disgrace such an ancestry, will require no sHght 
energy, or brief apprenticeship. 

But they, on whom the present race of young 
men must depend, for whatever degree of comfort, 
their future homes may vield™-have had in tlie 



74 INDUSTRY. 

forming period of life, their attention turned to 
sciences, which to the ears of their excellent grand- 
mothers, would have been as strange languages. 
It is sometimes exemplified, that the best house 
keepers are not the best teachers of housekeeping. 
They find it easier to pursue their own established 
system, than to have patience with the errors of a 
novice. Hence their daughters are released from 
participation in domestick care during that pliant 
period when it might easily have been made con- 
genial — perhaps, until they have imbibed a distaste 
for it. 

Another circumstance, which renders the pres 
ent crisis still more hazardous, to those on whom 
are soon to devolve the burdens of domestick re- 
sponsibility, is the difficulty of obtaining trusty 
servants. That this evil increases, is evident to 
all, whose memories comprise the routine of the 
last thirty, or even ten years. Yet the exertions 
necessary to support the structure of refined soci- 
ety, have not diminished. Perhaps proof might be 
adduced, that they are both heightened and varied 
by the progress of luxury. If, therefore, the 
amount of labour in families is increased, and the 
number of efficient agents diminished, and the 
knowledge of the superintendant impaired, or ta- 
ken away — from what quarter can the deficiency be 
supplied ? How is the head of the household to 
be made comfortable, when he returns from those 
toils by which that household is maintained ? 

These are serious questions, not only in their 



INBUSTRY. 75 

individual, but political consequences For the 
strength of a nation, especially of a republican na- 
tion, is in the intelligent and well-ordered homes of 
the people. And in proportion as the discipline of 
famihes is relaxed, will the happy organization of 
communities be affected, and national character 
become vagi'ant, turbulent, or ripe for revolution. 

The influx of foreign population renders it 
doubly important, that some features of our native 
character and customs, should be preserved for 
our descendants. And where can these be guard- 
ed or transmitted, so well as in the sanctity of a 
well-ordered home ? The habit of breaking up 
family-establishments, and resorting to boarding- 
houses, is becoming prevalent in our larger cities. 
Should it be still more general among those whom 
wealth and fashion authorize to give tone to soci 
ety, the consequences must be baneful. The 
character of the next generation must be affected 
by it. A less concentrated influence will be 
brought to bear upon the unformed mind. Chil- 
dren, losing the example of that class of parental 
virtues which the organization of a family requires, 
can no longer see their mother diffusing a gener- 
ous hospitality, or drawing under her shelter, the 
homeless and the orphan. The father, no longer, 
by the wise ordering of his domesticks, and by a 
judicious distribution of checks and encourage- 
ments to all, will teach his sons how to legislate 
for the good of others. The efSciency of the 
mother must be less called into exercise, and how 



76 INDUSTRY. 

can she instruct her daughters in domestick indus- 
try, which she has herself no opportunity to prac- 
tise ? The dignity of the man also suffers by this 
arrangement, and much of the comfort which he 
proposes from domestick life, must be resigned 
Should this disruption of families become widely 
prevalent, the desultory character of a homeless 
people would fasten upon us, and the charities that 
cluster around the hearth-stone, and the domestick 
altar— w^hich bless the guest, and cheer the babe in 
its cradle — must wither like uprooted flowers. 

I trust, my dear young friends, that you will 
give these subjects an attentive consideration, and 
that you will be willing to blend with the pursuits of 
an accomplished education, a practical knowledge 
of that science, without which woman must be inert 
in her own sphere, and faithless to some of her 
most sacred obligations. Indebted as you are for 
innumerable privileges to the free government un 
der which you live, you w^ill not surely disregard 
such forms of patriotism, as fall within your prov- 
ince. Acquaint yourselves, therefore, with all the 
details of a well-ordered family, and make this de- 
partment of knowledge, both a duty and a pleasure. 
For beset as our country may be, with external 
dangers, or disordered by internal commotions — if 
from every dwelling there flows forth a healthful 
and healing influence, what disease can be fatal ? 

The yoiing ladies of the present generation seem 
to pass in review before me, with all their privi- 
leges, and in all their grace and beauty. Methinks 



INDUSTRY. 7? 

their hands are upon the ark of thei; country. Let 
them not feel that they have only to seek ernbel 
lishment, to sip from the honey-cups of life, or to 
glitter like the meteor 'of a summer's eve. For as 
surely as the safety and prosperity of a nation de- 
pend on the virtue of its people, they, who reign in 
the retreats where man turns for his comfort, who 
have power over the machinery w^hich stamps on 
the infant mind its character of good or evil, are 
responsible, to a fearful extent, for that safety and 

prosperity. 

7f 



LETTER V. 

DOMESTICK EMPLOYMENTS. 

Since Industry is the aliment of contentment 
and happiness, our sex are privileged in the vari- 
ety of employments that solicit their attention. 
These are so diversified in their combinations of 
amusement with utility, that no room need be left 
for the melancholy of a vacant and listless mind. 

Needle-work, in all its forms of use, elegance 
and ornament, has ever been the appropriate occu- 
pation of v.^oman. From the shades of Eden, 
when its humble process was but to unite the fig- 
leaf, to the days when the mother of Sisera looked 
from her window, in expectation of a " prey of 
divers colours of needle-work on both sides, meet 
for the necks of those that take the spoil," down 
to modern times, when Nature's pencil is rivalled 
by the most exquisite tissues of embroidery, it has 
been both their duty and their resource. While 
the more delicate efforts of the needle rank high 
among accomplishments, its necessary depart- 
ments are not beneath the notice of the most re- 
fined young lady. To keep her own wardrobe 
perfectly in order, to pay just regard to economy, 

and to add to the comfort of the poor, it will be 

78 



DOMESTICK EMPLOYMENTS. 79 

necessary to obtain a knowledge of those inven- 
tions, by which the various articles of apparel arc 
repaired, modified and renovated. True satisfac 
tion, and cheerfulness of spirits, are connected 
with these quiet and congenial pursuits. This has 
been simply and fortunately expressed, by one of 
our sweetest poets : — 

" It rains — What lady loves a rainy day ? 
She loves a rainy day, who sweeps the hearth. 
And threads the busy needle, or applies 
The scissors to the torn or thread-bare sleeve ; 
Who blesses God that she has friends and home ; 
Who, in the pelting of the storm, will think 
Of some poor neighbour that she can befriend ; 
Who trims the lamp at night, and reads aloud, 
To a young brother, tales he loves to hear : 
Such are not sad even on a rainy day. 

The queen of Louis XL, of France, was a 
pattern of industry to her sex. Surrounding her- 
self with the daughters of the nobility, whom she 
called her daughters^ she was both their teacher 
and companion, in elegant works of embroidery 
and tapestry. The churches were adorned with 
these proofs of their diligence and ingenuity. She 
considered industry a remedy for a disordered im- 
agination, and a shield against the temptations of 
a fashionable life. Hence prudence and modesty 
marked the manners of that court, where their op- 
posites had once prevailed, and the blooming and 
elegant train by whom she was attended; " bore 
in their hearts, the honour and virtue which she 
planted there." 



80 D M E S T 1 C K 

Knitting is a quiet employment, favouiuMe to 
reflection, and though somewhat obsolete, not un- 
allied to economy. It furnishes a ready vehicle 
of charity to the poor, and most appropriate du 
ring the severity of w^inter. The timely gift of a 
pair of coarse stockings has often relieved the sul- 
ferings, and protected the health of many an ill- 
clad and shivering child. It seems to be v^ell 
adapted to save those little fragments of time 
which might else be lost. Mrs. Hannah More, 
whose example imparts dignity, and even sacred- 
ness to common things, was partial throughout her 
whole life to this simple employment. One of 
her most interesting and playful letters, accom- 
panied a sample of this kind of industry, as a pres- 
ent to the chikl of a friend — and stockings of her 
knitting entered into her charities, and were even 
sold to aid missionary efforts in foreign climes. 

Since the domestick sphere is intrusted to oui 
sex, and the proper arrangement and government 
of a household are so closely conn-ected with our 
enjoyments and virtues, nothing that involves the 
rational comfort of home is unworthy of attention. 
The science of housekeeping affords exercise for 
the judgment and energy, ready recollection, and 
patient self-possession, that are the characteristicks 
of a superior mind. Its elements should be ac- 
quired in early life ; at least, its correspondent tastes 
and habits should never be overlooked in female 
education. The generous pleasure of reheving a 
mother or friend from the pressure of care, will 



EMPLOYMENTS. 81 

sometimes induce young ladies to acquaint them- 
selves with employments which enable them, when 
the more complex duties of life devolve upon them^ 
to enjoy and impart the delights of a well-ordered 
home. To know how to prepare for, and preside 
at a table which shall unite neatness with comfort 
and elegance ; where prodigality is never admit 
ted, nor health carelessly impaired, is both an ac 
complishment and a virtue. 

That skill in doraestick employments is not in 
compatible with mental cultivation, there are many 
examples. To adduce only one, from our own 
country, Mrs. Child, one of the most indefatigable 
labourers in the varied field of literature, is not only 
the author of the '^ Frugal Housewife," but able 
practically to illustrate it, with singular energy 
and versatility. She says, " a knowledge of do- 
mestick duties is beyond all price to a woman. 
Every one of our sex ought to know how to sew, 
and knit, and mend, and cook, and superintend a 
household. In every situation of life, high or low, 
this sort of knowledge is of great advantage. 
There is no necessity that the gaining of such in- 
formation should interfere with intellectual acquire- 
ment, or even with elegant accomplishment. A 
well-regulated mind can find time to attend to all. 
When a girl is nine or ten years old, she should 
be accustomed to take some regular share in house- 
hold duties, and to feel responsible for the manner 
in which her part is performed — such as her own 
mending, washing the cups and putting them in 



82 BOMESTICK 

place, cleaning silver, or dusting and arranging the 
parlour. This should not be done occasionally, and 
neglected whenever she finds it convenient — she 
should consider it her department. When older 
than twelve, girls should begin to take turns in 
superintending the household — keeping account of 
weekly expenses — 'making puddings, pies, cake, 
&c. To learn eflfectually — they should actually 
do these things themselves, not stand by, and see 
others do them." 

Miss Elizabeth Carter, to whom allusion has 
been already made, as an adept in nine languages, 
and many sciences, did not neglect those employ- 
ments w^hich fall within the immediate province of 
her sex. In needlework, she early accomplished 
herself, and till near the close of her long life of 
eighty-nine years, continued its practice. Daring 
her youth, while passing a winter in London, a 
number of shirts which w^ere needed for her brother, 
were sent to her, which she completed with dili- 
gence and pleasure, during the excitements and 
interruptions of a visit in that great metropolis. 
When, after the death of her mother, and removal 
of his children by marriage, her father w^as left 
alone, she felt it to be her duty, notwithstanding 
the devotion of her life to study, to return and su- 
perintend his domestick establishment. With the 
avails of her publications, she piurchased a house, 
where she conveyed her only surviving parent, and 
for the last fourteen }■ ears of his life, made his daily 
comfort, one of the ruling objects of her existence. 



EMPLOYMENTS. feS 

When a literary friend expressed anxiety lest 
these domestick cares should interfere with her 
intellectual pursuits, she replied : " I am nauch 
obliged to you for the kind partiality which induces 
you to regret rny giving up so much time to do- 
mestick economy. As to any thing of this kind 
hurting the dignity of my head, I have no idea of 
it, even.were the head of more consequence than 
T feel it to be. The true post of honour consists 
in the discharge of those duties, whatever they 
happen to be, which arise from that situation, in 
which Providence has placed us, and which we 
may be assured is the very situation best calcula 
ted for our happiness and virtue." 

If this could be said, by the translator of Epic- 
tetus, whose deep and varied knowledge enabled 
her to fit a young nephew for the university, with 
how little reason, can the lighter studies of modern 
female education, be brought as an excuse for 
utter neglect or dislike of domestick employments. 

It should be remembered that while this distin- 
guished v/oman acquainted herself with every duty 
and detail, which could make the house which she 
superintended, agreeable to her father and others, 
she laid aside none of her literary or scientifick 
pursuits. The same perseverance by which she 
acquired many languages, she kept in action to 
retain them. Her daily system was to read before 
breakfast, two chapters in the Bible, a sermon, and 
some Hebrew, Greek and Latin. After breakfast, 
she read a portion in each of the nine languages 



84 i) O M E S T I C K 

with which she was acquainted, so as not to allow 
herself to lose what she had once gained, while, in 
her department of housekeeping, nothing was de- 
ficient or omitted. 

It has been sometimes urged as an objection 
against the modern system of female education, 
that the wide range of science which it compri- 
ses, turns the attention of the young from- house- 
hold duty, and renders them impatient of its details 
and labours. This argument seems to address 
itself to mothers. It might be in their power to 
refute it, and to associate in the minds of their 
daughters, with a love of study, a knowledge of 
the unpretending pursuits of their own future prov- 
ince. Maternal affection would naturally prompt 
the wish to save them from the mistakes and per- 
plexities to which ignorance might in future ex- 
pose them. Though perhaps little native affinity 
exists between intellectual pursuits and household 
cares, they may doubtless be so united as to re- 
lieve each other ; and she will give strong proof of 
the best education and the best regulated mind, 
who neglects the fewest duties, and despises none 

Order and punctuality are indispensable to those 
who would well govern a family. The virtues 
have been styled gregarious. Punctuality, in par* 
ticular, propagates itself. If the mistress of a 
house is punctual, the inmates under her roof be 
come so. It is the very soul of system. Tbe 
spirit of order also diffuses itself from the head 
to the members of a houschoW, One armiment. 



EMPLOYMENTS. 85' 

for having every surrounding object neatly arran 
ged, is that the operations of the mind are thus in- 
flvienced. The late President Dwight used to 
enjoin it upon his students, never to seat them 
selves for intellectual labour, especially for com- 
position, until their rooms were in perfect order. 
Sterne found himself impeded in his literary prog- 
ress, unless every surrounding article was in its 
place, and himself dressed with neatness. The 
musical genius of Haydn failed to inspire him^ 
unless his person was carefully arrayed. Lord 
Bacon, whose mighty mind might be supposed to 
rise superior to trifling circumstances, acknow- 
ledged that he composed with far gi'eater ease, 
when flowers were tastefully arranged around him 
If our sex are not often interrupted in any gi'eat 
literary enterprise, by the disorder of materials 
under their control, they may be painfully con- 
scious of embarrassed feelings, when surprised by 
unexpected company, in a careless costume, or a 
parlour disarranged. 

It will be found that in the science of house 
keeping, no slight degree of practical knowledge 
is required, to direct others with propriety and 
profit. 

In a state of society, where equality prevails^ 
and where the desire of living without labour is bin 
too common, servants, thoroughly trained in their 
several departments, are not always to be found. 
To instruct those who are ignorant ; to know when 
they have done well, and when they have done 



86 DOMESTICK 

enough, when they have reason to be weary, or a 
right to complain, it is necessary to have had some 
personal experience of what is required of them 
Complaints of the errors of domesticks are very 
common, and with none more so than with those 
who are least qualified to direct them. Perhaps 
too much is expected of them ; perhaps we neg- 
lect to mal^e due allowance for their causes of irri- 
tation, or to sympathize in the hardships of their lot 
Possibly we may sometimes forget that the distmc 
tions in society are no certain test of intrinsick mer 
it, and that we " all have one Master, even Christ.*^ 
Yet admitting that the ranks and stations are no& 
very clearly defined, and that the lower classes 
sometimes press upon the higher ; this is in ac- 
cordance with the spirit of a republick, anrl all 
should be willing to pay some tax for the privi- 
leges of a government, which admits such a high 
degree, and wide expansion of happiness. If our 
domesticks draw back from the performance ot 
what the spirit of feudal times, or aristocratick sway 
might exact, a remedy still remains ; to moderate 
our wants, and study simplicity in our style of 
living. Much time will be rescued for valuable 
pursuits, when the love of show and vanity, with 
their countless expenses and competitions, are 
stricken from our household lists. She who is 
content to live more plainly than her neighbours, 
and dress more simply than her associates, when 
reason, or the wishes of her friends require it, has 
gained no slight ascent in true philosophy. 



EMPLOYMENTS. 87 

You will perhaps think me an advocate of un- 
graceful toils, or a setter forth of strange and obso- 
lete opinions. Still bear with me in your courtesy 
for the few remarks that remain* I would not 
decry the embellishments of life : I render them 
due honour ; but I should grieve to see you defi- 
cient in its plain and practical duties. Fashion 
will take care of the former, so I have argued for 
the latter. Fortunate shall I esteem myself, if the 
attention of but one mind shall thus be turned to 
those occupations which render home delightful. 

I have ever thought it desirable that young la- 
dies should make themselves the mistresses of 
some attainment, either in art or science, by which 
they might secure a subsistence, should they be 
reduced to poverty. Sudden and entire reverses 
are not uncommon in the history of affluence. To 
sustain them without the means of lessening the 
evils of dependance, when health and intellect are 
at oui command, is adding helplessness to our 
own affliction, and increasing the burden of oth- 
ers. When the illustrious Henry Laurens, by the 
fortune of our war of Revolution, was held a pris- 
oner in the Tower of London, he wrote to his two 
daughters, who had been nurtured in all the ten- 
derness and luxury of Carolinian wealth : " It is 
my duty lo warn you to prepare for the trial o 
earning your daily bread by your daily labour 
Fear not servituae ; encounter it, if it shall be ne- 
cessary, wath the spirit becoming a woman of an 
honest ana pious neart ; one who has been neither 



88 B M E S T I C K 

fashionably nor affectedly religious." The accom 
plished Madame de Genlis pronounced herself to 
be in possession of thirty trades, or varieties of 
occupation, by which she could, if necessary, ob- 
tain a livelihood. It was a wise law of some of 
tlie ancient governments, which compelled every 
parent to give his son some trade or profession, 
adequate to his support. Such is now the variety 
of departments open to females, as instructers in 
schools and seminaries of their own sex, that they 
may follow the impulse of their ge.nius in the se- 
lection of a study or accomplishment, and while 
they pursue it as a pleasure, be prepared to prac- 
tise it as a profession. 

Among the pleasant employments which seem 
peculiarly congenial to the feelings of our sex, the 
culture of flowers stands conspicuous. The gen- 
eral superintendance of a garden has been repeat- 
edly found favourable to health, by leading to fre- 
quent exercise in the open air, and that commu- 
ning with Nature which is equally refreshing to the 
heart. It was labouring with her own hands in her 
garden, that the mother of Washington was found 
by the youthful Marquis de la Fayette, when he 
sought her blessing, as he was about to commit him- 
self to the ocean, and return to his native clime. 
Milton, who you recollect, was a great advocate that 
woman should " study household good," has few 
more eloquent descriptions, than those which rep- 
resent our first mother at her floral toil amid the 
sinless shades of Paradise. 



EMPLOYMENTS. S9 

The lendinpr of flowers has ever appeared to me 
a fitting care for the young and beautiful. They 
then dwell, as it were, among their own emblems, 
and many a voice of wisdom breathes on their ear 
from those brief blossoms, to which they appor- 
tion the dew and the sunbeam. While they erad- 
icate the weeds that deform, or the excrescences 
that endanger them, is there not a perpetual moni- 
tion uttered, of the work to be done in their own 
heart ? From the admiration of these ever-vary- 
ing charms, how naturally is the tender spirit led 
upward in devotion to Him, "whose hand per- 
fumes them, and whose pencil paints." Connect- 
ed with the nurture of flowers, is the delightful 
study of Botany, which imparts new attractions to 
the summer sylvan walk, and prompts both to 
salubrious exercise and scientifick research. A 
knowledge of the physiolog)'" of plants, is not only 
interesting in itself, but of practical import. The 
brilliant colouring matter w^hich they sometimes 
yield, and the healthful influences w^hich they pos 
sess, impart value to many an unsightly shrub, or 
secluded plant, which might otherwise have been 
suffered to blossom and to die, without a thought. 

It is cheering, amid our solitary rambles, to 
view, as friends, the fair objects that surround us, 
to call to recollection their distinctive lineaments 
of character, to array them with something of in- 
telligence or utility, and to enjoy an intimate com- 
panionship with nature. The female aborigines 
of our country were distinguished by an extensive 

8* 



90 D O jM E S T I C K 

acquaintance with the medicinal properties of 
plants a]\d roots, which enabled them, both in 
peace and war, to be the healers of their tribes. 
I would Dot ct)unsel you to invade the province of 
the physician. In our state of society, it w^ould be 
preposterc'us and arrogant. But sometimes, to 
alleviate tlie sHght indispositions of those you love, 
by a simple infusion of the herbs which you have 
reared or gathered, is a legitimate branch of that 
nursing-kindness, which seems interwoven with 
woman's nature. 

And no\^ , to sum up the whole matter. Though 
in the morning of youth, a charm is thrown over 
the landsc:i])e, every thorn in the path is hidden, 
every ine([uality smoothed, yet still, life is not 
^' one long summer's day of indolence and mirth." 
The sphove of woman is eminently practical. 
There is much which she will be expected to do, 
and ought therefore to learn, and to learn early, if 
she w^(;ul(l acquit herself creditably. Though to 
combine the excellences of a housekeeper, with 
nmch eminence in literature or science, requires 
R]) energy seldom possessed — still there is no need 
tliat domestick duties should preclude mental im- 
prc^vement, or extinguish intellectual enjoyment. 
They may be united by diligence and perseve- 
rance, and the foundation of these qualities should 
be laid note, in youth. 

If I have annoyed you by pressing too much on 
your attention, the detail of humble and homely 
employment, I pray you to forgive me. It is 



EMPLOYMENTS. 91 

because 1 have felt the immense huportarice ot 
establishing habits of industry, while life is taking 
its stamp and colouring. For " if the spring yield 
no blossoms, in summer there will be no beauty, 
and in autumn no fruit." The moments of the 
young are like particles of gold, washed down by 
the never-staying flood of time. She who neglects 
to arrest them, or who exchanges them for trifles, 
must stand in poverty before her Judge. " Thou 
shalt always have joy in the evening," says the 
good Thomas a Kempis, " if thou hast spent the 
day well. Wherever thou art, turn every thing to 
an occasion of improvement : if thou beholdest 
good examples, let them kindle in thee a desire of 
imitation ; if thou seest any thing blarneable be- 
ware of doing it thyself." 

The province of our sex, though subordinate, is 
one of peculiar privilege : sheltered from tempta- 
tion, and in league with those silent and sleepless 
charities, which bless without seeking applause. 
The duty of submission, imposed both by the na- 
ture of our station and the ordinances of God, dis- 
poses to that humility, which is the essence of 
piety; while our physical weakness, our trials, 
and our inability to protect ourselves, prompt that 
trust in Heaven, that imphcit leaning upon a Di- 
vine arm, which is the most enduring strength, and 
the surest protection. 



LETTER V!. 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 



The importance of attention to health is uriiver 
sally admitted. Formerly, the intellectual part of 
om* nature was too exclusively regarded in educa- 
tion. Its early and intense action, in every form 
of precocity was encouraged. Now, physical 
welfare is also consulted. That increasing care is 
bestowed on the safety of the temple where the 
mind lodges — proves that the structure of that 
mind is better understood ; and the mutual reac- 
tion of the ethereal and clay companion, m.ore 
clearly comprehended. 

The great amount of learning and eloquence, 
imbodied in the medical profession, has illustrated 
and enforced this subject. It is not presumed that 
this little volume can suggest any thing new. Yet 
it is always safe to repeat those precepts w^hich 
have peculiar affinity with the safety and comfort 
of our sex. 

The feebleness of females, especially in our 
large cities, has long been a source of remark, re- 
gret, and even reproach. It has been supposed in 
our own country, that their vigour has deteriorated, 
within two or three past generations. Habits of 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 93 

refinement and affluence, seem to have produced 
an enervating effect. It is important to inquire 
for the remedy and to pursue it. 

Regularity in the hours of rising and retirmg^ 
perseverance in exercise, adaptation of costume to 
the variations of chmate, simple and nutritious 
aliment, and " temperance in all things" are ne- 
cessary branches of a sanitory regimen. Living 
in houses which are kept at too high a tempera- 
ture during winter, and disregarding the ventila- 
tion of the sleeping-room, are habits of exceed- 
ingly pernicious tendency. The power of endur- 
ing exposure to our varying and extreme seasons, 
is desirable. Yet as there are constitutions of 
such susceptibihty, and temporar)^ states of health 
to which all are subject, when exposure would be 
Doth unwise and unsafe, young ladies should ac- 
quaint themselves wdth some of those forms of ac- 
tive domestick industry, which offer a substitute, 
v^hen w^alking abroad is prohibited. Every house- 
keeper can instruct her daughters in a sufficient 
variety of these, to prevent her health from suffer- 
ing, during those occasional sequestrations which 
must unavoidably occur. Though exercise in the 
open air, should be daily taken by the young, 
w^henever it is possible — yet it is better to culti- 
vate that pliancy of constitution, which can health- 
fully exist for a temporary pe; od without it, than 
to create such entire dependanc - on external move- 
ment, as to induce languor and sickness when it is 
necessarily precluded. A judicious mother pro- 



94 HEALTH AND DRESS. 

posed to her daughters a certain proportion oi 
morning exercise with the broom, in the parlour 
and in their own apartments. '* This sweeping 
makes my arras ache,"' was their objection after 
the trial of a few days. '' Try it till your arms do 
not ache," was the laconick, but kind reply. Her 
own experience had taught her, that muscular, as 
well as mental energy, required habitual training. 
Vigorous exercise will often fortify a feeble con- 
stitution. Walking, especially among rural scen- 
ery, is highly salubrious. Ridinor on horseback, 
and sea-bathing, when they can be safely and 
conyeniently attained, are powerful tonics for a 
dehcate tissue of nerves. 

Since without health, both mdustry and enjoy- 
ment languish, and since the physical imbecility 
of our sex, operates so banefuUy upon the whole 
sti'ucture of domestick welfare, it is desuable to 
multiply those modes of exercise, which are de- 
cidedly feminine. Amons^ them, few are more 
conduciye to yisrour, than that almost obsolete one, 
the use of the great spinning-wheel. -A ^^Titer of 
other times, styles it somewhat quaintly '* Hygeia's 
harp." The uniyersal exercise which it giyes the 
frame, maks it an efficacious remedy for debihry. 
Its regular, moderate use, has been found salutary 
eyen in pulmonary affections. 

It is a source of regret that domestick manufac 
tiures are so genera >' banished from the houses of 
our afrriculturists. There are undoubtedly some 
tabricks which it would still be profitable to con- 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 95 

strucl there. But admitting that they are less lu- 
crative than before the establisliment of incorpo- 
rated manufactories, the gain which they propose, 
is of a higher order — the gain of contentment, 
homefelt happiness, and that increasing interest in 
domestick concerns, for want of which, many of 
our young females seek objects of a more exciting 
and questionable tendency. The busy sound of 
the wheel, mingling with the song of sisters, as 
they transmute the snowy fleece into apparel for 
those whom they love, has a natiye association 
with cheerfulness and comfort. 

In ancient times, queens and princesses consid- 
ered the use of the distaff, as no derogation from 
their dignity. Neither in modern times, is it al- 
ways despised. Mrs. Hannah More, after a visit 
to the Dutchess of Gloucester, and the Princess 
Sophia, writes : " The former gave me a quantity 
of worsted, of her own spmning^ for me to knit 
into stockings for the poor." If the royalty of 
England, and the talent which that royalty ac- 
knowledged, and by which not only England, but 
the world was benefited, have not felt such em- 
ployments beneath them, why should we ? 

On the subject of Dress, I am aw^are that much 
has been said and ^^Titten to little purpose. The 
laws of fashion are often so preposterous, her do- 
minion so arbitrary, that Reason and Philosophy 
can have little hope of gaining ground in her em 
l)ire. Neither is it Avise to expect of the young, 
a superiority to reigning modes. Singularity is 



96 HEALTH AND DRESS. 

never desirable Still it is possible not to Dc js: 
centrick, and yet to avoid such a style of dress, as 
opposes taste, produces deformity, or leads to un- 
necessary expense. There are a few rules which 
ought never to be violated by females. 

I. Not to permit fashion to impair health. 
This is worse than " to spend money for that 
which is not bread, and labour for that which sat- 
isfieth not." Strong contrasts between the cos- 
tume worn at home, and abroad, in the morning 
and at evening parties, are exceedingly prejudicial 
during the severity of our climate. How often is 
it the case, that a comfortable garment, worn 
throughout the winter's day, is thrown off at night, 
and one of the lightest texture assumed, with a 
formidable portion of the chest and shoulders left 
uncovered, while the thermometer is below zero. 
Mothers ! who are surely interested in the life of 
your daughters, and whose advice it is hoped, is 
never rejected, these things ought not so to he. 

Would that I might persuade my fair young 
friends, of the importance of preserving their feet 
in a comfortable and regular temperature. A del- 
icate silk or cotten stockmg, with a thin-soled 
shoe, in the depth of winter, will exhibit to advan- 
tage a foot of exquisite symmetry, but the conse- 
quences may be mournfully computed, when the 
" evil days of disease come, and the years draw 
nigh," when, as far as health is concerned, it must 
be said, " there is no pleasure in them." 

Another point of extreme importance in dress, 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 97 

is to avoid comDression. The evils of obstructed 
circulation are formidable. Stricture in the region 
of the lungs and heart, is deeply perilous. Those 
watchful sentinels, who keep the sacred citadel of 
life — and never take rest when the other parts of 
the body slumber, deserve better treatment. How 
unjust and ungrateful to compel them to labour in 
fetters, like a galley-slave, and to put those servants 
to the torture, who turn the wheels of existence, 
both night and day. I conceive some knowledge 
of anatomy to be a requisite part of female edu- 
cation. An acquaintance with the complicated 
structure, and mysterious mechanism of this clay 
temple, would prevent from so thoughtlessly bring- 
ing destructive agents to bear upon its frailty. It 
might also heighten adoration of that Being by 
whom, to borrow the beautiful figure of Watts, 
this "" harp of thousand strings is made, and kept 
in tune so long." 

Few circumstances are more injurious to beau- 
ty, than the constrained movement, suffused com- 
plexion, and laboured respiration, that betray tight- 
lacing. The play of intelhgence and varied emo- 
tion, which throw such a charm over the brow of 
youth, are impeded by whatever obstructs the 
flow of blood from the heart to its many organs. 
In Greece, where the elements of beauty and 
grace were earliest comprehended, and most hap- 
pily illustrated, the fine symmetry of the form was 
left luitortured. 

But the influence of this habit on beauty is far 

9 



98 II E A L T H A N D D R E S S . 

less to be deprecated than its effects upon health. 
That pulmonary disease, affections of the heart, 
and insanity, are in its train, and that it leads some 
of our fairest and dearest to fashion's shrine to die, 
is placed beyond a doubt, by strong medical tes- 
timony. 

Dr. Mussey, whose " Lectures on Intemperance" 
have so forcibly arrested the attention of the pub- 
lick, asserts, that " greater numbers annually die 
among the female sex, in consequence of tight-la- 
cing, than are destroyed among the other sex by 
the use of spirituous liquors in the same time." 
Is it possible that thousands of our own sex, in 
our own native land, lay with their own hand, the 
foundation of diseases that destroy life, and are 
willing for fashion's sake to commit suicide ? 

The author of " The Influence of Mental Cal- 
tivation upon Health," asserts, that " whatever 
tends to diminish the capacity of the chest, tends 
also to produce organick disease of the heart and 
lungs. Tight lacing is ever a dangerous practice^ 
for if the heart does not suffer, the lungs and spine 
very frequently do." 

Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for 
the Insane, in Connecticut, to whom science and 
philanthrophy are indebted, adduced many instan- 
ces of the fearful effects of obstructed circulation 
on the brain. Being requested by the instructress 
of a large female seminary, to enforce on her pu- 
pils the evils of compression in dress, he said, 
with that eloquence of eye and soul, which none 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 99 

who once felt their influence can ever forget : 
** The whole course of your studies, my deaj* 
young ladies, conspires to impress you with reve 
rence for antiquity. Especially, do you turn to 
Greece, for the purest models in the fine arts and 
the loftiest precepts of philosophy. While sitting ^ 
as disciples at the feet of her men of august mind 
you may have sometimes doubted how to balance, 
or where to bestow your admiration. The acute- 
ness of Aristotle, the purity of Plato, the calm un- 
repented si>*^sfactions of Socrates, the varied lore 
of Epicurus, and the lofty teachings of Zeno, have 
alternately attracted or absorbed your attention . 
Permit me to suppose that the high-toned el hicks 
of the stoicks, and their elevation of mind, which 
could teach its frail companion, the body, the proud 
lesson of insensibility to pain, have won your pecu 
liar complacence. Yet, while meting out to them 
the full measure of your applause — have you ever 
recollected that modern times, that your ow^n coun 
try came in competition for a share of fame ? Has 
it occurred to you, that your own sex, even the 
most delicate and tender part of it, exceeded tho 
ancient stoicks in the voluntary infliction of pain, 
and extinction of pity? Yes, some of the timid 
and beautiful members of this seminary, may en- 
ter the lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysip- 
pus, and cherish no shght hope of victory. 1 
trust to prove to you, that the ancient and sublime 
stoicks were very tyroes in comparison of many a 
lady of our owui times. In degree of suffering, in 



100 HEALTH AND DRESS. 

extent of endurance, and in perfection of conceal 
ment, they must yield the palm. I do assure you, 
that its most illustrious masters, fruitful as they 
were in tests to try the body, never invented, im- 
agined, or would have been able to sustain that 
torture of tight-lacing, which the modern belle 
steadily inflicts without shrinking, and bears w^ith- 
out repining, sometimes to her very grave. True, 
they might sometimes have broken a bone, or 
plucked out an eye, and been silent. But they 
never grappled iron and whalebone into the very 
nerves and life-blood of their system. They might 
possibly have passed a dagger too deeply into the 
heart, and died : but they never drew a ligature of 
suffocation around it, and expected to live. They 
never tied up the mouths of the millions of air- 
vessels in the lungs, and then taxed them to the 
full measure of action and respiration. Even 
Pharaoh only demanded brick without straw for a 
short time. But the fashionable lady asks to live 
without breathing for many years. 

"' The ancient stoicks taught, that the nearest ap 
proach to apathy, was the perfection of their doc 
trine. They prudently rested in utter indifference. 
They did not attempt to go beyond it. They did 
not claim absolute denial of all suffering. Still less 
did they enjoin to persist and rejoice in it, even to 
the * dividing asunder of soul and spirit.' In this, 
too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady taking a 
flight bejT-ond the sublime philosopher. She will 
not a/lmit that she feels the slightest inconvenience. 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 101 

Though she has fah'ly won laurels to which no 
stoick dared aspire — yet she sludiouslj^ disclaims 
the distinction which she faced death to earn, yea, 
denies that she has either part or lot in the matter, 
surpassing in modesty, as well as in desert, all 
that antiquity can boast, or history record." 

We may appeal for evidence of the ravages of 
extreme stricture in dress, even to the annals of 
the King of Terrors. Dr. Reese, in speaking of 
the dissection of two young females who had been 
addicted to tight-lacing, remarks : " The adhesion 
of parts, and derangement of structure, were truly 
frightful." 

The opinion of other eminent physicians, it 
would be easy to adduce. But I have already to 
ask your forbearance for a subject, on which I 
have been diffuse because there seemed much to 
say, and in earnest, because I felt it to be of im- 
portance to the most beautiful and interesting part 
of the community. The late lamented Dr. Spurz- 
heim, assumed the proposition, that the " physi- 
cal education of ivomen, was of more importance 
to the welfare of the world than that of menP 
The rude Spartans well understood this principle. 
The requisitions of their lawgivers, and the pub- 
lick cares of the nation, were devoted to the phys- 
ical welfare, and athletick developments of our 
sex. They omitted in their scale of excellence, 
that intellectual culture, and refinement of sensi 
bility, to which we too often sacrifice health and 
vigour. They made the mind a vassal to the 

9* 



102 HEALTH AND DRESS. 

body : we too often make the body a martyr to 
the mind. I hope, my dear young friends, you 
will sanction neither their vassalage, nor our mar- 
tyrdom, but steering wisely betw^een extremes, so 
avoid every species of imprudence, to which your 
period of life is too prone, as not be condemned to 
mourn at last, when the flesh and body are con- 
sumed, saying : " How^ have I hated instruction, 
and my heart despised reproof." 

II. Dress should ucver infi'inge on delicacy 
This point I w^ould prefer not to dilate upon, but 
rather recommend to your own reflection, and in- 
nate sense of propriety. Unfavourable inferences 
are usually drawn of those who go to extent in 
any fashion, whose principle is display. Minds 
of true refinement will never be m danger of up 
holding a style of dress which leads to indecorous 
exposure ; and those of discernment cannot fai. 
to perceive, that what may be thus gained in ad 
miration, is lost in respect. 

III. Dress ought, not to involve unnecessary 
expense. Every individual, in providing her 
wardrobe, should call into exercise a correct judg- 
ment, and a thorough understanding of what she 
can aff'ord. Thus she wil' avoid the uncomforta- 
ble habit of pressing on I'^ose w^ho supply her 
purse, demands which are inconsistent with their 
finances. To make superiors in fortune, the 
standard of imitation, betrays a defective judg- 
ment ; since a proper expenditure for them, would 
in others be extravagant and unjust. Having as- 



HEALTH AND DRESS. 103 

certained the point of expenditure, beyond which 
you ought not to go, an account-book should be 
regularly kept, and the price of every article pur- 
chased, with the date affixed, be accurately and 
neatly recorded, that current expenses, with their 
annual amount, may be ever subject to your own 
inspection, and the revision of those by whom 
your resources are furnished. Whatever your 
allowance, or income may be, never spend the 
whole upon your own person. By moderating 
your wants, and by economy in the preservation 
of your w^ardrobe, reserve to yourself the power 
and the pleasure, of occasional and simple presents 
to those whom you love. Let the claims of the 
poor come into remembrance. A well-regulated 
mind will experience true satisfaction in avoiding 
the purchase of an expensive garment, that the 
sickly sufferer may be clothed and fed. 

It is a beautiful self-denial for the affluent to set 
an example of plainness and simplicity. Such an 
influence is peculiarly salutary in our state of so- 
ciety, w^here the large class of young females, who 
earn a subsistence by labour, are so addicted to 
the love of finery, as often to omit the substantial 
and comfortable articles of apparel, and lay up 
nothing from the wages of many years of service. 
The conscientious will therefore inquire, not 
merely if they are able to indulge in expensive 
decorations, but what will be the effect of their 
example, on those who are not. 

TV. Dress should not engross too much time. 



104 HEALTH AND DRESS. 

The duties of ihe toilette should be confined to 
regular periods, and to reasonable bounds. She 
who contemplates her own image too constantly, 
will be less disposed for higher subjects of thought. 
Neatness, comfort, and a becoming costume, are 
objects worthy of attention. But a profusion of 
ornament, is neither necessary nor graceful to the 
young. There is a beauty in their own fair sea- 
son of life, and in the sweet and happy tempera 
ment which ought to accompany it, that strikes 
more strongly on the heart, than " gold or pearls, 
or costly array." A showy style of dress, is pe- 
culiarly Inappropriate to those who are pursuing 
their education. It indicates that something be- 
sides study, has taken possession of the heart. 

To highly ornamented and striking apparel in 
climxh, there are still stronger objections. A 
morning spent in the decoration of the person, is a 
poor preparation for the duties of the soul. An 
eye roving about among surrounding costumes, 
during the solemn services, and a heart disposed 
to comment upon them in the family, are little in 
unison with the design of the Sabbath, and smfuUy 
subversive of its sacred privileges. 

Let us now dismiss the subject of Dress, with 
the single remark, that simplicity and grace seem 
to be the elements of its power to charm, and that 
those will be the least in danger of permittijig it 
to absorb too much of their time, whose hearts are 
filled with the love of higher and better things. 



LETTER \TI. 

MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

The desire of pleasing is natural and strong m 
youth. If guided to correct channels, it is an in- 
centive to improvement, and happiness. When it 
rejects the motive of selfishness, and seeks only 
to " please others for their edification," it becomes 
a Christian virtue. This may be easily distin- 
guished from that restless pursuit of popularity, 
which being the offspring of ambition and pride, 
ever involves some elements of disappointment 
and envy 

In the art of pleasing, the instruments least de- 
pendant on contingencies, are undoubtedly good 
manners. They are of far more importance to the 
young, than the adventitious distinctions of dress 
and beauty : more valuable than the latter, because 
more permanent, and more certain in their results 
than ihe former, because a style of dress which 
attracts one class of admirers may be repulsive to 
another, but fine manners are intelligible to all 
mankind, and a passport in every country. 

AffabiUty and the smile of cheerfulness are ex- 
pected from the young, as spontaneous expressions 
of the felicity of their fair season of life. " Soft* 



106 MANNERS AND 

ness of manner, and complacency of countenance,'* 
says Dr. Darwin, '^ gentle, unhurried motion, and 
a voice clear and tender, are cliarms that enchant 
all hearts." It was the praise of Anne of Austria, 
the mother of Lewis the Great, that her manners 
evinced dignity without pride, more striking than 
even her youth and extreme beauty, and that there 
was in her countenance such a living charm of 
benignant expression, as communicated to those 
who beheld her, tenderness chastened by respect. 
Good manners, to be consistent, must be founded 
on a principle of justice. Their tribute of defer- 
ence and respect should be first paid where it is 
first due ; to parents, teachers, ministers of reli- 
gion, civil rulers, superiors in knowledge, and 
those whose whitened heads bear the crown of 
time and of virtue. It seems to be among the evils 
of modern times, that such distinctions are too 
little acknowledged. Wealth attracts the gaze of 
the vulgar, and sometimes wins influence, though 
unassociated with talents or piety ; but those 
gi'ades of rank, which are announced by the voice 
of nature, and the precept of God, demand our 
reverence. They constitute orders of nobility, 
even in a republick, and those who pay them due 
honour, reflect honour upon themselves. Especial- 
ly, is it fitting and graceful for the young of our sex, 
to recognise the claims which a refined and reli- 
gious community impose. Would that I might 
persuade each one of them, to show the most 
mcU'ked deference to age. It was remarked of a 



ACCOMPLISH M E N T S . 107 

.ady, distinguished both for talents and accomphsh- 
ments, that when in company, she always selected 
the oldest persons for her first and highest atten- 
tions, afterward, children, or those w4io, from 
humble fortune or plain appearance, were liable to 
be neglected, shared that regard from her, which 
made them happy and at ease. Her manners, if 
analyzed, seemed a combination of equity and be 
nevolence ; first, rendering what she considered to 
be due, and then pursuing what she felt to be de- 
lightful. Respect to age, and kindness to child- 
hood, are among the tests of an amiable disposi- 
tion. Undeviating civility to those of inferior sta- 
tions, and courtesy to all, are the emanations of a 
well-educated mind, and finely-balanced feelings. 
There is a certain blending of dignity with sweet- 
ness, not often exhibited, but always irresistible. 
Without creating reserve, or chilling friendship, it 
repels every improper freedom, and couples re- 
spect with love. It combines a correct estimate 
of the high destinies of our nature, with a tender 
sympathy for all its infirmities. 

There was a fine character of dignity, in the 
mciuner of females of the higher classes in the olden 
time. We, of modern days, think it was some- 
times carried too far ; but we are verging to the 
opposite extreme. So anxious are we to he enter- 
taming in society, that w^e reserve no power by 
which its follies are to be checked, or its tenden- 
c'es elevated. 

The mother of Washington was pronounced a 



108 MAT^NERS AND 

model of true dignity in woman. She possessed 
the lofty characteri sticks of a Roman matron, with 
a heart of deep and purified affections, and a maj- 
esty that commanded the reverence of all. At the 
head of a large household, whose charge, by the 
death of her husband, devolved solely upon her, 
the energy and dignity of her character preserved 
subordination and harmony. To the inquiry what 
was the course pursued in the early education of 
her illustrious son, she replied : " The lesson to 
obeyT When the war of the Revolution termi- 
nated so gloriously for his country and for him, 
and when after an absence of nearly seven years, 
he hastened to pay his filial respects to his vener- 
ated parent, the officers of the French and Ameri- 
can armies were anxious to see the m.other of their 
chief. A splendid festival, given at Fredericks- 
burgh, to welcome the conquerors of Cornwallis, 
furnished them with an opportunity. *' The for- 
eign officers," says Mr. Custis, in his " Recollec- 
tions of Washington," " had heard indistinct ru- 
mours of her remarkable life and character, and 
forming their judgments from European examples, 
were prepared to expect that glare and show, 
which would have been attached to the parents of 
the great, in the countries of the Old World. How 
were they surprised, when the matron, leaning on 
the arm of her son, entered the room dressed in the 
very plain, yet becoming garb, worn by the Vir- 
ginian lady of the old time of day. Her address, 
always dignified and imposing, was courteous^ 



ACCOM PLISH.MENTS* 109 

though reserved. She received the comphment- 
ary attentions that were paid her, without evin- 
cing the shghtest elevation, and at an early hour, 
w^ishing the brilliant assembly much enjoyment of 
their pleasure, retired as she had entered, resting 
upon the arm of her son. Such an effect had her 
simplicity of garb, and dignity of bearing, upon the 
officers accustomed to the heartless pomp of Euro- 
pean courts, that they affirmed it was no wonder 
that "America produced the greatest men^ since 
she could boast of such mothers^ 

The style of manners, like the fashion of dress, 
changes with diiferent ages, and takes a colouring 
from the spirit of the times. Ceremonies vary, 
but the ornament of courteous and dignified de 
portmcnt is never obsolete. It will adorn and give 
weight to character wherever refinement is appre- 
ciated, or kindness of heart beloved. 

With regard to accomplishments, as they are 
popularly termed, so much depends upon circum- 
stances, the wishes of those who direct education, 
and the impulse of taste, that it would be impos- 
sible to give any definite rule, except that they do 
not interfere with the attainment of solid learning. 
The true order of acquisition seems to be, jirstj 
what is necessary ; second^ what is useful ; tlnrdy 
what is ornamental. To reverse this arrangement, 
is like beginning to build at the top of the edifice. 
Let the foundation be laid firm and deep, and the 
superstructure may safely admit of ornament 
Stated parts of the day should be allotted as their 



110 MA NN E RS AND 

province, that they need not entrench on the hmits 
of more essential, though less alluring pursuits. 

Before entering upon this part of my subject, 
permit me to present a solemn passage from that 
eminent author, who has given a motto to this vol- 
ume, and w^hose writings, having been celebrated 
throughout the world, ought at least to claim the 
deference of her own sex . " Is it fair," she asks, 
" that what relates to the body, and the organs of 
the body, I mean those accomplishments which 
address themselves to the eye and to the ear, 
should occupy almost the whole thoughts ; while 
the intellectual part is robbed of its due propor- 
tion, and the spiritual part has almost no propor- 
tion at all? Is not this preparing the young for 
an awful disappointment, in the tremendous day, 
when they must be stripped of that body, of those 
senses and organs which have been made almost 
the sole objects of their attention, and shall feel 
themselves in possession of nothing but that spir- 
itual part, which in education was scarcely taken 
into the account of their existence ?" 

A taste for Drawing, heightens the admiration 
of Nature by enforcing a closer examination of her 
exquisite workmanship, from the hues of the wild 
flower, to the grandeur of the forest, and the glow- 
ing beauties of the extended landscape. The con- 
struction of maps, often taught to children at 
school, is a good preparation for the study of per- 
spective, while the vignettes with which they may 
be ajdorned, give exercise and expansion to the 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. Ill 

young germs of taste. Those who make such ad- 
vances in Drawing and Painting, as to be able to 
sketch designs and groups from History, derive 
high intellectual pleasure, from this elegant attain- 
ment. 

Musick, at present the most popular of all ac- 
complishments, is a source of surpassing delight 
to many minds. From its power to sooth the feel- 
ings, and modify the passions, it seems desirable 
to understand it, if it does not involve too great 
expense of time. Vocal musick is an accomplish- 
ment, within the reach of most persons. " I have 
a piano within myself," said a little girl, " and I 
can play on that, if I have no other." 

An excellent clergyman, possessing much know- 
ledge of human nature, instructed his large family 
of daughters, in the theory and practice of musick. 
They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable 
and happy. A friend inquired if there was any 
secret in his mode of education. He replied. 
*' When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to 
them sing, and if I hear them speaking against 
any person, I call them to sing to me, and so they 
have sung away all causes of discontent, and every 
disposition to scandal." Such a use of this ac- 
complishment might serve to fit a family for the 
company of angels, and the clime of praise. 
Young voices around the domestick altar, breath- 
ing sacred musick, at the hour of morning and 
evening devotion, are a sweet and touching ac- 
companiment,r 



112 MANNERS AND 

Instrumental musick, being more expensive in its 
attainment, both of money and time, and its indif- 
ferent performance giving pain to those of refined 
sensibihty, seems scarcely desirable to be culti- 
vated, unless the impulse of native taste prompts 
or justifies the labour. The spirited pen of Miss 
Martineau, in her " Five First Years of Youth," has 
sketched a pleasing description of a young lady 
possessing a strong predilection for musick : " She 
sang much and often, not that she had any partic- 
ular aim at being very accomplished, but because 
she loved it, or, as she said, because she could not 
help it. She sang to Nurse Rickham's children — 
she sang as she went up and down stairs — she 
sang w^hen she was glad and when she was sorry 
— when her father was at home, because he liked 
it, and when he was out, because he could not be 
disturbed by it. In the woods at noonday, she 
sang like a bird, that a bird might answer her ; and 
if she aw^oke in the dark night the feeling of sol- 
emn musick came over her, with which she darea 
not break the silence.'' 

Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt, that 
opportunities for its improvement should be gladly 
accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems cause 
of regret, when time, perhaps health, are sacrificed 
to the accomplishment. Even where a tolerable 
performance of instrumental musick might proba- 
bly be attained without the prompting of decided 
taste, there may be danger of absorbing too much 
of time and attentioiij from those employments 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 113 

which a female ought to understand, and will be 
expected to discharge. " I am nothing w^hen 
away from the piano," said an amateur of musick. 
** If one happens to be in sight, I am always look- 
ing at it, and while people are talking to me of 
other things, I think only of that." 

Dancing, which from ancient times ranked high 
among accomplishments, has occasionally fallen 
into disrepute, from the late hours, and display in 
dress, with which it is too often associated. It 
would be difficult to say why such accompani- 
ments have been found necessary. It should be 
entirely divested of them, and of the excitement 
of mixed company, when it is taught to young 
ladies who are attending school. Without these 
restrictions, it has been known to break in upon a 
prosperous course of study, and substitute frivo- 
lous thought, and vanity of dress ; and surely the 
period allotted to female education is sufficiently 
limited, without such abridgment. 

The polished Addison asserted that the princi- 
pal use of a lady's being taught dancing was, that 
she might " know how to s-it still gracefully." As 
a mode of exercise in the domestick circle, it is 
healthful, and favourable to a cheerful flow of spir- 
its. I was once accustomed to witness it in a 
hap])y family, where the children at the close of 
the reading and lessons which diversified the long 
winter evenings, rose to the musick of the piano, 
while the parents, and even grandparents, min 
gling with the blooming circle, gave dignity to the 

10* 



114 maNnersand 

innocent hilarity in which they participated 
There was nothing in this to war with the spirit 
of the prayers which were soon to follow, or to 
indispose to that hymn of praise, which hallowed 
their nightly rest. Of dancing, with its usual 
combinations of vanity, waste of time, and expo- 
sure of health, this cannot be said : and for any 
amusement or accomplishment necessarily attend- 
ed with these serious drawbacks, I would not be 
considered an advocate. 

Reading aloud, with propriety and grace, is an 
accomplishment, worthy the acquisition of females. 
To enter into the spirit of an author, and convey 
his sentiments with a happy adaptation of tone, 
emphasis, and manner, is no common attainment. 
It is peculiarly valuable in our sex, because it so 
often gives them an opportunity of imparting pleas- 
m*e and improvement to an assembled family, du- 
nng the winter evening, or the protracted storm. 
In the zeal for feminine accomplishments, it v/ould 
seem that the graces of elocution had been too 
little regarded. Permit me to fortify my opinion, 
by the authority of the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet : " I 
cannot understand, why it should be thought, as it 
sometimes is, a departure from female delicacy, to 
read in a promiscuous social circle, if called upon 
to do so, from any peculiar circumstance, and to 
read too as well as Garrick himself, if the young 
lady possesses the power of doing it. Why may 
she not do this, with as much genuine modesty, 
and with as much of a desire to oblige her friends 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 115 

and with as little of ostentation, as to sit down in 
the same circle, to the piano, and play and sing, in 
tlie style of the first masters *? If to do the for- 
mer is making too much of a display of her tal- 
ents, why should not the latter be so ? Nothing 
but some strange freak of fashion, can have made 
a difference." 

Fine reading is an accomplishment, where the 
inherent musick both of the voice and of the intel 
lect may be uttered ; for the scope and compass 
of each, is often fully taxed, and happily develop- 
ed, in the interpretation of delicate shades of 
meaning, and gradations of thought. Its first ele- 
ment, to be clearly understood^ is often too much 
disregarded, so that with some who are pronoun- 
ced fashionable readers, low, or artificial intonations 
so perplex the listener, as to leave it doubtful 
whether the '' uncertain sound, be piped or harp- 
ed." 

Thus it sometimes happens, that in fashionable 
penmanship, the circumstance that it is to he de- 
ciphered, seems to have been forgotten. '^ To 
vcad so as not to be understood — and to write so 
as not to be read, are among the minor immorali- 
ties," says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More. El- 
egant chirography, and a clear epistolary style, 
are accomplishments which every educated female 
should possess. Their indispensable requisites, 
are neatness, the power of being easily perused — 
orthographical and gi*ammatical correctness. De- 
fects in either of these particulars are scarcely par- 



116 MANNERS AND 

donable. You are aware that the handwriting is 
considered one of the tahsmans of character. 
Whether this test may be depended on or not, the 
fact that letters travel farther than the sound of 
the voice, or the sight of the countenance can fol- 
low, renders it desirable that they should convey 
no incorrect or unfavourable impression. The les- 
ser niceties of folding, sealing, and superscription, 
are not beneath the notice of a lady. Mrs. Farrar, 
in her excellent little work on Letter- writing, re- 
marks, that it is '' well to find out the best way of 
doing every thing, since there is a pleasure in 
doing things in the best ivay, which those miss, 
who think any way will do." Do not indulge in a 
careless style of writing, and excuse yourself on 
the plea of haste. This nourishes a habit which 
will be detrimental to excellence. Om* sex have 
been complimented as the possessors of a natural 
taste for epistolary composition. It is an appro 
priate attainment, for it admits the language of the 
heart which we understand, and rejects the elabo- 
rate and profound sciences in which we are usu- 
ally deficient. Ease and truth to nature, are its 
highest ornaments, and Cicero proved himself to 
be no less a master of its excellences, than of his 
more sublime art of eloquence, when he said : 
*' Whatever may be the subject of my letters, they 
still speak the language of conversation." 

To a finished female education, the acquisition 
of languages is generally deemed esseniial. The 
patient research which they require is a good dis- 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 117 

cipline for the mind, and the additional knowledge 
they impart, of the etymology and use of our own 
native tongue, is both valuable and delightful. 
Yet they can scarcely be considered desirable ap- 
pendages, unless thoroughly understood. To pre- 
serve many in memory, even after they are care- 
fully attained, requires more leisure than usually 
falls to the lot of woman, when life's cares accu- 
mulate around her. The attempt to pass off be- 
fore a critick a smattering of a foreign tongue, is 
a vanity easily detected, and always despised 
Those ladies who have the leisure, the intellect, 
and the love of severe study, necessary to conquer 
the idioms of the dead and living languages, will 
doubtless find stores of literature and gems of 
thought, sufficient to repay the toil. Still, I press 
the monition, avoid being superficial. It is the 
danger of females of the present age. Expected 
to master the whole circle of sciences, with a clus- 
ter of the fine arts in a few short years, and those 
years too often injudiciously curtailed by the van- 
ities of dress and fashionable amusement, is it sur- 
prising that they should sometimes have the rep- 
utation of possessing, what they really do not un- 
derstand '' Thus they even become willing to ap- 
pear to others, w^hat in reality they are not. Su- 
perficial knowledge induces superficial habits of 
thought. It strikes at the root of integrity. The 
love of display is often permitted to enter too 
much into the tissue of female education. Almost 
the whole routine of domestick duty is opposed t© 



118 MANNERS AND 

it. Hence, there springs up a warfare, between 
the early training and ultimate business of woman, 
which her life is sometimes too short to harmonize 
and settle. 

" Brilliant talents, graces of person, conj&rmed 
intrepidity, and a continual habit of displaying 
these advantages, seem all that is aimed at in the 
education of girls. The virtues that make domes- 
tick life happy — the sober and useful qualities 
which render a moderate fortune, and retired situ- 
ation comfortable, are never inculcated. The pa- 
rents' first error, in the preference of accomplish- 
ments to virtues, naturally leads their miseducated 
daughters, to prefer sentiment to principle, and 
make it the guide of their life." This is the suf- 
frage of the late celebrated Mrs. Montague. 
Surely, none could be better qualified to pronounce 
the value of brilliance, grace and accomplishments, 
or to lay them in the balance, with that solid 
knowledge, pure principle, and domestick virtue, 
whose aggregate is but another name for happi- 
ness. 

Let us then be less anxious to make a display of 
accomplishments, than to possess true merit. The 
words of Archbishop Tillotson, are of weighty im- 
port : " Sincerity, is to speak as we think, to do 
as we intend and profess, to perform and make 
good what we promise, and really to he, what we 
would seem and appear to be." 

For those whose lot forbids both the acquisition 
of accomplishments, and the embellishments of 



ACCOMFLISHMENTS. 119 

dress, there remains an attainment less adventi- 
tious and m^ore durable in its impression, than 
either. True politeness, that charm to which eve- 
ry nature is susceptible, is w^ithin their reach. It 
is often seen rendering poverty, and the plainest 
exterior agreeable, while its absence makes know- 
ledge repulsive, and robs beauty of its power to 
please. 

This was what added the most attractive charm 
to the beautiful Lady Jane Grey. The learned 
Roger Ascham, after expatiating on her accom- 
plishments, the elegance of her composition, and 
her intimate acquaintance with the French, Italian, 
Latin and Greek languages, adds, as the crowning 
grace, the '^possession of good manner s.^^ 

True politeness requires humility, good sense, 
and benevolence. To think more " highly of our- 
selves than we ought to think," destroys its quick- 
ening principle. Idle and heartless ceremony may 
spring up from its decayed root, but the counter- 
feit is ever detected. Its first effort is to subdue 
and extirpate selfishness ; its next to acquire that 
knowledge of human nature, which will enable it 
wisely to regulate itself by the sympathies of those 
around. Its last feature, reveals alliance with a 
higher family than the graces. Forming a bright 
link between the accomplishments and virtues, it 
claims aflSinity with that heaven-born spirit which 
on the plains of Bethlehem, breathed in melody 
from the harps of angels, " peace on earth and 
good will to men." 



LETTER VIII. 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 



That class of duties, which rest on the basis of 
the nearest affinities, it would seem, might easily 
be performed. Nature, in pouring the blood from 
the same fountain, gives bond for their faithful 
discharge. Those who were nurtured on the same 
breast, and rocked in the same cradle, who side by 
side took their first tottering steps, who togetlier 
shared paternal tenderness, admonition, and prayer, 
ought to form a bond of the firmest and fondest 
alliance. Clu^itered like pearls upon the same 
thread, each should live in the reflected light and 
beauty of the other. Twined and woven together, 
in the very elements of their existence, the cord- 
age should resist every shock save the stroke of 
the spoiler. Encompassed and girded by the 
holiest sympathies, whatever may be the pressure 
or the enmity of the world, they should stand as 
the Macedonian phalanx, or still more impenetra- 
ble, as that Christian brotherhood, which is to be 
unbroken and perfected in heaven. 

But is it always thus ? The Book of Truth in- 
forms us that a " brother offended is harder to be 
won, than a strong city, that their contentions are 
Hke the bars of a castle :" admitting that there 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 121 

are, even in this endeared union, possibilities of 
discord, and capacities for estrangement. History 
has shown us the ties of blood trampled on by am- 
bition, but it has set its strong seal of reprobation, 
on Cambyses, and Caracalla. 

Our own observation teaches us that this sacred 
concord is sometimes broken, and that it too often 
fails of the entire harmony w^hich it might exem- 
plify. Sisterly and fraternal affection, ought to 
involve sympathy, confidence, aid in every mo- 
mentous crisis, and a unity which nothing can 
sever. Why should those whom Nature has en- 
riched with such friends, shrink from any measure 
of the world's unkindness ? Disappointments may 
well be borne, by spirits thus fortified. And when 
the novelty is stripped from life, and its burdens 
make the heart serious, what an inspiring cheer- 
fulness enters into it, from the smile of the sister 
who drank with us, our first cup of joy, the voice 
of the brother, which mingled in our earliest infant 
melodies. 

Those, who are thus blessed, cannot estimate the 
loneliness of the beings, whose childhood was be- 
reft of such companionship, who go through life 
pursuing coveted sympathies, and grasping shad- 
ows — making to themselves molten images, in- 
stead of living and legitimate comforters, perhaps, 
rashly solacing themselves for the denial of nature, 
by unfolding to strangers, the sorrowful secrecies 
of a brotherless and sisterless heart. This depri- 
vation of one of the deepest and purest sources of 

11 



122 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

aflfection, should be viewed and borne as a bereave- 
ment, intended to lead the spirit to a more ardeni 
search after heavenly consolations. 

Those who have the solace of fraternal relation 
ship, should endeavour to appreciate the privilege 
and affectionately to discharge the obligationij 
which it implies. How many forms may thest 
obligations take, in the varied intercourse of life . 
It was through the sisterly affection of Madame 
Dacier, that her genius was first brought to light. 
While employed in her childhood, at her task of 
embroidery, her brother rendered his recitations to 
his father, in the same room. His examinations 
in the classicks, were close and rigid, and when she 
saw him hesitating or confused, her sympathy was 
awakened. She therefore prepared herself to act 
as his prompter, and while she seemed quite en- 
gaged in assorting her silks, or arranging their 
shades in her tapestry, would earnestly watch his 
progress, and as soon as he was distressed, or at a 
loss, would suddenly look up from her needle, and 
make answer for him. Her father thus discover- 
ing her superior talents, was induced to give her a 
learned education. Thus on the amiable basis of 
love for a brother, rose the fame of the future 
translator of Callimachus, who for many years, by 
her own efforts, and afterward in conjunction with 
her husband, transfused the wealth of the Greek 
and Roman classicks into the language and litera 
ture of France. 

Fraternal aflection is as graceful in its develop- 



SISTERIY VIRTUES. 123 

ments to the eye of the beholder, as it is cheering 
to the heart where it resides. There are some, 
who though not deficient in its more important du- 
ties, are but too regardless of those lesser demon- 
strations of attachment, which are so soothing to 
the susceptible heart. Every delicate attention 
which tenderness prompts, every mark of polite- 
ness, which refined society requires, ought to per- 
vade the intercourse of brothers and sisters. It is 
a mistake that good manners are to be reserved 
for visiters, and that in the family-circle, negli- 
gence and coarseness may be indulged with im- 
punity. Even nature's affections may be under- 
mined or shaken, by perseverance in an improper 
deportment, more than by lapses into error and 
folly. For the latter, repentance may • atone — 
while the former check the flow of the heart's 
warm fountains, until they stagnate, or become 
congealed. 

I knew a father, himself a model of polished 
manners, who required of his large family, to treat 
each other at all times with the same politeness 
that they felt was due to their most distinguished 
friends. Rudeness, neglect, or indifference, were 
never tolerated in their circle. Respect to each 
other's opinion, a disposition to please and be 
pleasing, care in dress, and courtesy of manner, 
were not considered thrown away, if bestowed on 
a brother, or a sister. Every one of the group 
was instructed to bring amiable feelings, and 
powers of entertainment, to their own fireside 



124 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

The result was happy. The brothers felt it an 
honour to wait upon their sisters, and the sisters a 
pleasure to do all in their power, for the comfort 
and improvement of their brothers. This daily 
practice of every decorum, imparted to their man- 
ners an enduring grace, while the affections which 
Heaven implanted, seemed to gather strength from 
the beauty of their interchange. I would not as- 
sert that fraternal or sisterly affection, may not be 
deep and pervading, without such an exterior, yet 
it is surely rendered more lovely by it ; as the 
planets might pursue in darkness, the order oi 
iheir course, but it is their brilliance which reveals 
and emb Uishes it. 

Every well-regulated family might be as a per- 
petual school. The younger members, witnessing 
the example of those, whose excellence is more 
confirmed, will be led by the principle of imitation, 
more effectually than by the whole force of foreign 
precept. The custom of the older daughters, to 
assist in the education of their less advanced sis- 
ters, I rejoice to see, is becoming more common. 
It cannot be too highly applauded. What should 
prevent their assuming the systematick office of 
instructers, when circumstances are favourable to 
such an arrangement ? 

" I cannot," says the young lady, nurtured in 
affluence, " I cannot go forth as a teacher of stran- 
gers. My feelings shrink from such notoriety* 
There seems a sort of degradation in it, to which 
I am not willing to submit. Still, I acknowledge 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 126 

that our sex can do great good by teaching, and I 
have a desire to do good." 

Here then is the opportunity. You need not 
leave your home for the abode of strangers. Youi 
dehcacy will not be distressed by exposure, nor 
your pride, if you acknov^ledge such a guest, 
wounded by a change of station. Here are your 
scholars, bone of your bone, and flesh of your 
flesh, gathered under the same shelter, seated 
around the same board. Whatever you have to 
teach them, impart it kindly, and diligently, in the 
fear of the Lord. Doubt not he will give you a 
reward, in the heightened affection of those whom 
you serve — in the deeper root, and fairer harvest 
of that knowledge, whose fruits you divide with 
them. Shaking the superflux to them, you in- 
crease your own mental wealth. If you cannot 
assume the whole charge of their education, take 
but a part. Labour in a single department. Hold 
yourself responsible for their proficiency, in the 
branch that you undertake to teach. Whatever 
advances you have made in knowledge, you can- 
not but be most happy to share their benefits with 
those so dear. Consider your own education as 
quite incomplete, until self-education is added ; 
and there is no better mode of facilitating this, than 
the instruction of others. It furnishes the strong- 
est motive to fashion your own example on that 
model of purity and excellence, which you urge 
ihem to pursue. " For their sakes,'^^ said the 
Apostle, speaking of those who had listened 



126 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

to his instructions — '^ Foi^ their sakes I sanctify 
myself^ 

By what method can a daughter more fully 
evince her gratitude to her parents, than by aiding 
their children in the search of knowledge, and of 
goodness. How amiable, how- praise-worthy, is 
that disposition, which prompts a young and beau- 
tiful creature to come forth as the ally of a mother, 
in that most overwhelming of all anxieties, so to 
train her little ones, as to form at last, an unbroken 
family in heaven. No better apprenticeship for 
future duty could be devised, and no firmer hos- 
tage given to God or man, for its faithful per- 
formance. 

Permit me to point out a subordinate mode of 
doing good, in which the young ladies of a family, 
might happily co-operate. Fortunately, the an- 
cient custom of receiving into the household, some 
child of poverty, and rearing it as an assistant in 
domestic toils, until qualified to earn a subsistence, 
has not yet fallen into entire disuse. A strong ad- 
ditional reason, for receiving and extending it, is 
now found in the increasing difficulty of obtaining 
servants. Housekeepers, who thus rescue but a 
single being from ignorance or vice, to be trained 
for usefulness and virtue, confer no trifling benefit 
on the community. 

In a service of this nature, mothers might safely 
and successfully associate their daughters. Could 
they not depute the intellectual culture of their 
humble protege to those young instructers ?— 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 127 

Would it not be to them a profitable exercise ? 
By making them in a measure accountable for the 
intelHgence, and correct deportment of their pupil, 
would not kind and generous dispositions be cher- 
ished on one side, and gratitude take root on the 
other ? 

Might not the young ladies of a family, in the 
attentions bestowed on a female of this class, some- 
times adopt as an ultimate object, the preparation 
of an assistant to mothers, m the physical care of 
their little children ? 

It must surely be a pleasure to inculcate the 
neatness, patience, tenderness, purity of thought, 
and piety, which are essential to that interesting 
and important station. Beside these requisites, 
the young instructresses should cultivate in their 
pupil, a taste for useful books, and improving con- 
versation — the accomplishment of telling bible- 
stories, and of singing soothing and simple melo 
dies. A class of nurses thus endowed, and pos- 
sessing the correct deportment which accompanies 
good sense, and good temper, would be invaluable, 
and deserve to be treated with respect and regard, 
by all whom they should serve. Let the young 
ladies of our land take pains to educate such in- 
dividuals whenever it shall be in their power. 
They will win the warm thanks of that multitude 
of mothers, who are often so overburdened with 
the physical care of their offspring, as to be forced 
to neglect their moral training, and who continue 
to bear this burden, from inability to find those 



128 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

who might divide it, wdthout exposing the opening 
mind to the contamination of ignorance, vulgarity, 
or immoral example. 

Those young ladies, w^ho may be willing to add 
to their bright class of sisterly virtues, the instruc- 
tion of the younger members ot their beloved 
family-circle, should endeavour to teach agreeably 
As far as possible they should secure the affec- 
tions of their pupils, and represent knowledge to 
them, as another name for happiness. A sisterly 
instructor must not rest satisfied to teach only by 
the hearing of lessons, or the repetition of pre- 
cepts ; but by gentle deportment, cheering smiles, 
tender tones, and the whole armory of love. 

Most of our incitements to sisterly effort, will 
apply wath peculiar force to the oldest daughter 
of the family. The right of primogeniture, though 
not acknowledged under our form of government, 
still exists under certain limitations, in almost 
every household. It does not, indeed, as in some 
other countries, transmit a double portion of the 
paternal inheritance, or a sounding title, or a royal 
prerogative ; since with us, there are neither en- 
tailed estates, nor orders of nobility, nor monar- 
chical succession. But Nature herself, gives pre- 
eminence to the first-born, who promotes the pa- 
rent, at once, to the climax of enjoyment and of 
duty, and wakes those springs of unutterable affec- 
tion, which nothing but the ice of death can seal. 
The voice, which first told the young man, he was 
a father, will never be forgotten — though that 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 129 

voice was but the wail of the feeblest infant. The 
little hand, whose touch first kindled in a mother's 
heart, an emotion not to be defined by knguage, 
an aspiration of ecstasy, never before breathed or 
imagined, will be leaned on in adversity or widow- 
hood with peculiar trust — and the balm-cup which 
it offers, wall be taken with complacency, even to 
hoary hairs. There will often be found lingering 
in the parental bosom, some mixture of that partial 
tenderness, with which a dying patriarch styled 
his first-born, notwithstanding his prominent faults, 
the " excellency of dignity, and the excellency of 
power." 

Admitting, therefore, that priority of birth, im 
plies some degree of precedence, not in power, or 
wealth, but in influence over the affections of the 
domestick circle, it should be the earnest inquiry of 
all thus situated, how they may accomplish the 
greatest amount of good. The station of the eld- 
est sister, has always appeared to me, so pecu- 
liarly important, that the privileges which it involves, 
assume almost a sacred character. The natural 
adjunct and ally of the mother, she comes forth 
among the younger children, both as a moni tress 
and an example. She readily wins their conn 
dence, from a conviction, that more freshly than 
even the parent, she is " touched with the feeling 
of their infirmities." She will sometimes be em- 
powered to act as an ambassador to the higher 
powers, while the indulgence that she obtains, or 
the penalty that she mitigates, go down into the 



130 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

vale of years, among sweet and cherished remeni 
brances. In proportion to her interest in their af- 
fections, will be her power to improve their chai 
acters, and to allure them by the bright example 
of her own more finished excellence. Her influ- 
ence upon brothers, is often eminently happy. Of 
a young man, who evinced high moral principle, 
with rich and refined sensibiUties, unusually devel- 
oped, it was once said by an admiring stranger, 
*' I will venture to predict that he had a good sis- 
ter, and that she was older than himself,''^ 

It has been my lot, to know more than one elder 
sister, of surpassing excellence. I have seen them 
assuming the office of teacher, and faithfully im- 
parting to those whose understandings were but 
feebly enlightened, the advantages of their own 
more complete education. I have seen them soft- 
ening and modifying the character of brothers, 
breathing until it melted, upon obduracy which no 
authority could subdue. 

I have seen one, in the early bloom of youth^ 
and amid the temptations of affluence, so aiding, 
cheering and influencing a large circle of brothers 
and sisters, that the lisping student came to her, to 
be helped in its lesson — and the w^ild one from its 
sports, brought the torn garment, trustingly, to her 
needle — and the erring one sought her advice or 
mediation — and the delighted infant stretched its 
arms to hear her bird-like song — and the cheek of 
the mother, leaning on so sweet a substitute, for 
got to fade. 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 131 

I knew another, on whose bosom, the head of a 
sick brother rested, whose nursing-kindness failed 
not, night or day, from whom the most bitter med- 
icine was submissively taken, and who grasping 
the thin cold hand in hers, when death came, saw 
the last glance of the sufferer's gratitude, divided 
between her, and the mother who bare him. 

I have seen another, when the last remaining 
parent was taken to God, come forth in her place, 
the guide and comforter of the orphans. She be- 
lieved that to her who was now in heaven, the most 
acceptable mourning would be to follow her injunc- 
tions, and to fulfil her unfinished designs. Her 
motto was the poet's maxim : — 

** He mourns the dead, who live as they desire." 

As if the glance of that pure, ascended spirit was 
constantly upon her, she entered into her unfinished 
labours. To the poor, she was the same messen- 
ger of mercy, she bore the same crosses with a 
meek and patient mind. But especially to her 
younger sisters and brothers, she poured out, as it 
were, the very essence of her being. She cheered 
their sorrows, she shared and exalted their plea- 
sures, she studied their traits of character, that she 
might adapt the best methods both to their infirm- 
ities and virtues. To the germ of every good 
disposition, she was a faithful florist — to their way- 
wardness, she opposed a mild firmness, until she 
prei' ailed. 

She laid the infant sister, on her own pillow. 



132 SISTERLY VIRTUKS. 

she bore it in her arms, and rejoiced in its growth, 
and health and beauty. And when it hasted on 
Its tottering feet to her, as to a mother, for it had 
known no other, the smile on that yoimg brow, 
and the tear that chastened it, were more radiant 
than any semblance of joy, which glitters in the 
halls of fashion. The little ones grew up around 
her, and blessed her, and God gave her the reward 
of hex labours, in their aifection and goodness. 
Thus she walked day by day, with her eye to her 
sainted mother, and her heart upheld by the hap- 
piness which she diffused — and as I looked upon 
her, I thought that she was but a " little lower 
than the angels." 

Parents who, in the course of educating their 
daughters, send them to school at a distance from 
home, are often disappointed in the degree of im- 
provement which they had anticipated. They usu- 
ally expect too much, and allow too short a period 
for the ripening of that acquaintance, which implies 
confidence on one part, and gives power on the 
other to reform defects of character. The adaptation 
of teacher to scholar, is no light and momentary 
w^ork. The northern youth, who engages in the 
business of instruction at the sunny south, perceives 
a necessity of conforming to new usages, in order to 
be in harmony with those around. Natives of dif- 
ferent portions of the same state must take pains to 
adapt themselves to the new neighbourhood or 
household where they are to operate, if they would 
have their efforts crowned with success. But in 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 133 

every family of brothers and sisters is there not a 
teacher who requires no naturalization ? no excite- 
ment to sympathy ? who, while she aids intellectual 
progress, may exercise a moral and religious suasion 
still more visible and enduring ? who understands 
the feelings of those who receive her lessons ? and 
who, girded by their love, continues year after year 
her gentle ministrations ? 

Mothers should excite their daughters to perform 
these services to the younger members of the family 
circle, as the best preparation for their own future 
duties. Many excellent elder daughters has it been 
my good fortune to know, who realized their responsi- 
bility to the Great Teacher, and were filled with ten- 
derness to the mother, whose mission they partook, 
and to the dear ones who looked to them for an ex- 
ample. I think at this moment of one, who w^as 
the light and life of a large circle of little ones. 
They hung on the lineaments of her sw^eet counte- 
nance and imbibed joy. From her lovely, winning 
manners they fashioned their own. If temporary 
sadness stole over them, she knew the approach to 
their hearts, and her sweet music and sweeter 
words cheered them back to happiness. If there 
were among them exuberance of mirth, or symptoms 
of lawlessness, or indications of discord, she clothed 
herself w^ith the temporary dignity of the parent. 
When sickness w^as among them, no eye save that 
of the mother could so long hold waking as hers. 
No other arm was so tireless m sustaining the help- 
less form or the w^eary head. The infant seemed to 

1 a 



134 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

have two mothers, and to be in doubt which most to 
love. Often, in gazing on her radiant countenance, 
I said mentally, " What a preparation are you giv- 
ing yourself for your own future duties ! Happy the 
man who shall appropriate to himself such a treas- 
ure." Still at her joyous bridal there was sorrow : 
the tears of the little sisters. They clasped her in 
their tiny arms ; they would scarcely be persuaded 
to resign her. After they had retired to rest, they 
were heard lamenting, " Who now^ will sing us 
songs when we are sad, and teach us such plays as 
made us wiser and better ? Now, when we lear our 
frocks, who will help us to mend them ? and when 
we are naughty, who wall bring us back to good- 
ness ?" 

I have seen another elder daughter, to whose 
sole care, a feeble mother committed one of her little 
ones. With what warm gratitude, with what sub- 
lime purpose did she accept the sacred gift. She 
opened her young heart to the new occupant. She 
took the babe to her room ; she lulled it to sleep on 
her bosom ; it shared her couch. Soon its lisping 
tones mingled w^ith her supplications. She fed the 
unfolding mind wdth the gentlest dews of piety : 
" the small rain upon the tender herb." From her 
it learned to love the Bible, the Sabbath, the kind 
pastor ; to seek for true penitence and perseverance 
in the path that leads to heaven. And it was early 
taken there. In the arms of that eldest sister its 
soul was rendered up ; but not until it had given 
proof, for a few years of happy childhood, that it 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 135 

was one of the lambs of the Saviour's flock. After- 
ward, I saw that same eldest daughter in a family of 
her own. To heighten the happiness and elevate 
tne character of those around her, were her objects. 
And she knew how, for she had learned before. 
Thorough experience in the culture of the disinter- 
ested affections, gave her an imm.ense vantage-ground 
for the new duties of wife and mother. They were 
performed with ease to herself, and were beau- 
tiful in the eyes of observers.. The children of oth- 
ers were intrusted to her husband to be educated, 
and she became a mother to them. And I could 
not but bless the Giver of every good and perfect 
gift, that the hallowed influences to which that 
eldest daughter had given such exercise under the 
parental roof, might now go forth into the bosom of 
strangers, take root in distant homes, and, perhaps, 
in another hemisphere or in an unborn age, bring 
forth the fruits of immortality. 

The assistance which may be afforded to parents 
by the eldest daughter is invaluable. "What other 
hand could so effectually aid them in the great work 
of training up their children to usefulness and piety ? 
Filial gratitude is among the noblest motives to this 
enterprise. Many young ladies have been thus ac- 
tuated to become the instructers in different branch- 
es of their brothers and sisters, or regularly to study 
their lessons with them, and hear them recite ere 
they went to their teachers, or to assume the whole 
charge of their classical instruction. I w^as acquaint- 
ed with an elder sister who, every morning when the 



136 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

younger children were about to depart to their sep- 
arate schools, took them into a room by themselves, 
and imparted most kindly and seriously, such advice, 
admonition, or encouragement, as had a visible ef- 
fect on their moral conduct, in enabling both to re- 
sist temptation, and to be steadfast in truth and 
goodness. 

But I have been much affected with the history of 
one who, amid circumstances of peculiar trial, was 
not only to those younger than herself, but to her 
parents, and especially to her widowed and sorrow- 
ing father, as a guardian angel. It is more than a 
century since Egede, a native of Norway, moved 
with pity for the benighted Greenlanders, left a 
pleasant abode and an affectionate flock to become 
their missionary. His wife and four young children 
accompanied him. Their privations and hardships 
it is difficult either to describe or imagine, amid an 
ignorant, degraded people, and in that terrible cli- 
mate where rayless darkness is superadded to the 
bitter frosts of winter ; so that it is necessary to shrink 
into subterranean cells, and feed incessantly the 
train-oil lamp, lest the spark of life should be extin- 
guished. 

Little Ulrica saw her mother continually sustain- 
ing and cheering her father, amid labours which 
seemed to be without hope. She heard her read to 
him by the glimmering, never-dying lamp, from the 
few books they had brought from their father-land. 
She observed how cheerfully she denied herself for 
the sake of others, and with what a sweet smile .she 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 137 

discharged her daily duties. She perceived that 
light and warmth might be kept within the soul, 
while all around was dark and desolate, and gave 
her young heart to the God from whom such gifts 
proceeded. 

When the sun, after a long absence, once more 
appeared over the icy wastes, glorious as if new cre- 
ated, and in a few minutes again sank beneath the 
horizon, the missionary and his wife sometimes 
climbed the high rocks to meet the herald beams, 
and to welcome their first brief visit. Ulrica, fol« 
lowing in their footsteps with the children, earnestly 
incited them to love and revere the Great Being who 
called forth that wondrous orb wdth a w^ord, and 
sent him on errands of mercy to the earth and to the 
children of men. And w^hen the light of summer, 
w^hose sun never set, was around them, and the few 
juniper and birch trees gleamed out into sudden fo- 
liage, and the reindeer browsed among the mosses, 
and the long day, which knew no evening, fell upon 
the senses with a sort of oppressive brightness, she 
sometimes led her little sister to the shores of the 
solemn sea, and, raising her in her arms as some 
far-seen iceberg towered along in awful majesty, 
bade her to fear and obey the God who ruleth the 
mighty deep, and all that is therein. 

The mother was the teacher of her children. Es- 
pecially during the long solitude of the Greenland 
winters was it her business and pleasure to forra 
their minds, and fortify them against ignorance and 
evil Ulrica drank the deepest of this lore. Often, 

12'^ 



138 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

while the younger ones slept, did she listen delight- 
ed to the legends of other days, and bow herself to 
that blessed Book which speaks of a clime where 
there is no sterility, or tempest, or tear. When the 
father, accompanied by the son older than herself, 
was abroad in the duties of his vocation among the 
miserable inhabitants of the squalid cabins, Ulrica 
sat at the feet of her mother, sole auditor, surrender- 
ing to her her whole heart. But what she learned 
was treasured for the little brother and sister. Ev- 
ery lesson was carefully pondered, and broken into 
fragments for their weaker comprehension. She 
dealt out to them daily portions of knowledge, as the 
bread from heaven. She poured it out wearily, like 
water in the wilderness, bidding them ^^ drink and 
live." 

It was in the spring of 1763 that the poor Green- 
landers were visited by a w^asting epidemic. The 
smallpox broke out among them with a fury which 
nothing could withstand. Egede, assuming the be- 
nevolent office of physician, was continually among 
them. He gave medicines to the infected, and night 
and day besought the dying to look unto the ^' Lamb 
of God who taketh away the sins of the world.'^ 
Dwelling after dwelling was left empty and deso- 
late, and the population, always thin in that steril 
clime, melted away as snow before the vernal sun. 
Orphans fled to their pastor for shelter, and the sick 
to be nursed and healed. Every part of his house 
was an hospital, where the sufferers lay thickly side 
by side. Some who had been his open enemies, 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 139 

and coarsely reviled his counsels, were there in 
frightful agonies, so bloated and disfigured as scarce- 
ly to retain a vestige of humanity. One of thera, 
when recovering, came to him with a penitent and 
broken spirit, confessing the worth of that religion 
which could enable him thus to bless his persecutors. 

Through this fearful calamity, which lasted for 
many months, the wife of Egede, with her children, 
patiently and kindly tended the sick who thronged 
their habitation. But when the judgment was with- 
drawn, and health revisited the invalids, and among 
the diminished number of the survivers were indica- 
tions of that religious sensibility which more than 
repaid all her toils, she herself became the victim of 
sudden decline. " Death has come for me," she 
said to her husband. " In the cold cup which he 
presses to my lips there is no bitterness, save that I 
must leave you, while your desires for the conversion 
of our people are unaccomplished.'^ To Ulrica, her 
constant nurse, tireless both night and day, she com- 
mitted the younger children, towards whom she had 
so long evinced a sweet combination of sisterly and 
maternal care. She heard these little ones wailing 
around her bed, and comforted them with the hope 
wherewith she was herself comforted of God. She 
dictated messages of holy love to her son, who, pur- 
suing his theological studies in Denmark, she must no 
more embrace on earth. And so, in that low Green- 
land hut, she met the last enemy, and with the gasp 
and struggle mingled a hymn of victory and praise. 

Around her grave there stood only the lone mi^s- 



140 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

sionary and his three children. He was borne down 
and bewildered by this terrible visitation. In all his 
forms of adversity, and they had been naany, it did 
not appear to have entered his imagination that the 
beautiful beino- — so much younoer than himself, so 
firm in health, so fresh in spirit, who from early 
youth had been to him as another soul of strength 
and hope — should be taken, and he left alone. Then 
it W'as that Ulrica realized that her sacred charge 
comprised not only the motherless children, but the 
sorrowing parent. Asking strength from above to 
tread in the footsteps of her sainted mother, she came 
forward, and gave her arm firmly to the bereaved 
man, w^ho, like a reed shaken by the blast, w^aved to 
and fro on the verge of the yawning, uncovered grave, 
where lay the lifeless form of his idolized compan- 
ion. It w^as most touching to see the fragile nature 
of a beautiful young girl gird itself both to shelter 
the blossom, and prop the tree which the lightning 
had scathed. 

Suppressing her own grief, she taxed every energy 
to sooth and comfort her father. Strongly resem- 
bling her mother in person, she had the same clear 
blue eye, the same profuse flaxen hair, the same 
mild, yet resolved cast of features. So much like 
hers, also, were the sweet, inspiring tones of her voice, 
that the poor bereaved sometimes started from his 
revery with a wild hope, that sank but to deeper de- 
jection. Hourly it was her study to minister to his 
comfort. Carefully did she provide his raiment; and 
when he went forth, so wrap his furs about him as 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 141 

to defend him from the cold ; for he seemed less as- 
siduous than formerly to guard his own health and 
life. She spread his humble board as her mother 
had been accustom.ed to spread it ) but often, when 
she urged him to take refreshments, he w^as as one 
who heard not, and bowed himself down to pray. 
Then she knelt softly by his side, and her supplica- 
tions ascended with those of the deeply-stricken soul. 
He w^ould sit for hours with his head resting upon his 
bosom, or during their long, long evening, gaze mo- 
tionless on the seat which his best beloved had so 
long occupied. Amazed at the weight and endu- 
rance of his grief, the younger children, who strove. to 
wait on and cheer him as they had seen their mother 
do, sobbed forth their sorrows, as if they anew bade 
her farewell. But Ulrica never faltered, was never 
discouraged, though her heart was pierced at his de- 
spair. 

One morning her voice sounded in his ear like that 
of an angel : '^ Dear father ! dear father ! your son 
is here !" And the next moment the young mis- 
sionary, Paul Egede, rushed into his arms. He had 
returned from Europe, his education completed, to 
share in the labours of his father. Scarcely had he 
embraced his sisters ere the bereaved parent said, 
" Come forth, my son, and see the grave of your 
mother. Let me hear you pray there." The re- 
union w4th his firstborn, and the tender assiduities 
of Ulrica, aided by the blessing of heaven, began to 
lift up his broken spirit. He employed himself in 
his parochial duties, particularly in translating into 



142 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

the rude dialect of Greenland, simple realises and 
catechisms, which he circulated as widely as possi- 
ble among the people. He accepted with kindness 
the attention of his children, and spoke tenderly to 
them ; but it was evident that he looked for conso 
lation only towards heaven, and the hope of meeting 
his beautiful kindred spirit where they could be sun- 
dered no more. 

Three years of his mournful widowhood had pass- 
ed, when a request came from the King of Denmark 
that he would no longer exile himself, but return, 
and accept a professorship in a newly-founded sem- 
inary for orphan students. 

Infirm health admonished him that he could not 
much longer hope to resist the severity of a Green- 
land climate ; and bidding an affectionate adieu to 
the people among whom he had so painfully labour- 
ed, and intrusting them to the care of his eldest son 
Paul, he committed himself, with his three remaining 
children, to the tossing of the northern deep. What 
joyous wonder filled their young hearts at the pros- 
pect of a country where there was no long night ; 
where the grain ripened ere the frost came; and 
where they might be able to live on the surface of 
the earth the whole year. 

A return to the blessings of civilization, the warm 
welcome of friends, and the rekindling of early, 
healthful associations, renewed the spirit of Egede, 
and gave him vigour for the duties that devolved 
upon him. Ulrica was in his path as an ever-gilding 
sunbeam, while the pleasures of intellectual society, 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 143 

with the heightened advantages for educating her 
brother and sister, filled her heart with delighted 
gratitude, and added new radiance to her exceeding 
beauty. Her early history and peculiar virtues ex- 
cited the interest of all around, while the loveliness 
of her person and manners won many admirers. Yet 
she steadfastly resisted every allurement to quit her 
father, sensible that his enfeebled constitution re- 
quired those attentions which she best knew how to 
bestow ; and the holy light which beamed from her 
eyes while thus devoting herself to him and to his 
children, revealed the exquisite happiness of disinter- 
ested virtue. 

But it was not long ere Egede was convinced 
that the approaching infirmities of age demanded 
repose. He therefore retired to a lovely cottage in 
the island of Falster, separated from Zealand by only 
a narrow channel of the sea. There, amid the rural 
scenery which he loved, and in the faithful discharge 
of every remaining duty of benevolence and piety, 
he calmly awaited the summons to another life. Ul- 
rica read to him that sacred book w^hich was his sol- 
ace, for his failing sight was no longer equal to this 
oflSce ; and no voice entered his ear so readily, and 
so much like a song-bird, as her own. With the 
help of her brother and sister, she cultivated a small 
garden ; and it w^as touching to see them, in a dewy 
summer's morn, bearing his armchair out among his 
favourite plants, and aiding his tottering steps to a 
seat among them. There, dignified and peaceful, 
like the patriarch beneath the oaks of Mamre, he 



144 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 

communed with the works of God, or gave lessons 
of wisdom to his descendants. Every new shoot, 
each tendril that during the night had thrust farther 
onward its little clasping hand, were to him as living 
friends. The freshness of a perpetually-renewed 
creation seemed to enter into his aged heart, and 
preserve there somewhat of the lingering spirit of 
youth, while the clay tended downward towards tha 
dust. When neither his staff nor the arm of his 
children could support his drooping form, and he 
went no more forth amid the works of nature, Ulrica 
brought her fairest flowers to his pillow, and duly 
dressed the vase on the table by his bedside, and 
his dim eyes blessed her. Thither, with slow and 
downy footstep, death stole, and Ulrica, overcoming 
the emotion that swept over her like deep billows, 
girded herself to sing the hymn with which he had 
been wont to console the dying ; and when his part- 
ing smile beamed forth, and the white lips for the 
last time murmured "^mce," she, pressing her trem- 
bling hand on his closing eyes, soothed the wild 
burst of grief of the wailing children, and, kneeling 
down in her orphan bitterness, commended them to 
that pitying Father who never dies. 

It was affecting to see her forgetting her own 
sorrow, when others were to be cheered or cared 
for, and attending with a clear mind to every duty, 
however minute ; but when there w^as no longer 
anything to do, and her brother and sister had 
retired to their apartments, she leaned her beauti- 
ful head on the corpse of the old man, and wept 



SISTERLY VIRTUES. 145 

as if the very fountains of her soul were broken up. 
She made the spot of his lowly slumber pleasant 
with summer foliage and with the hardy ever- 
green. She planted the grassy mound with the en- 
during; chamomile, which rises sweeter from the 
pressing foot or hand, and the aromatic thyme, which 
allures the singing bee. There, at the close of day, 
she went often with her brother and sister, enforcing 
the precepts of that piety w^hich had led their be- 
loved father through many trials to rest with her Re- 
deemer. 

Once, as she returned from her mournful, yet 
sweet visit to the grave, she was met by Albert, the 
young, dark-eyed clergyman of a neighbouring vil- 
lage, who drew her arm within his ow^n. It would 
seem that his low musical voice alluded to a theme 
not unfamiliar to her ear. 

" Ulrica, why should you impose a longer proba- 
tion on my faithful love ? He to whom you have 
been as an angel is now with the spirits of just men 
made perfect. Dearest, let my home henceforth be 
yours, and this brother and sister mine !" 

The trembling lustre of her full blue eyes met 
those of Albert in tenderness and trust. His pleasant 
and secluded parsonage gained a treasure beyond 
tried gold ; for she w^ho, as a daughter and sister, 
had so long been a model of disinterested goodness 
and piety, could not fail to sustain with dignity and 
beauty the hallowed relation of a wife and mother. 

13 



LETTER IX. 



BOOKS. 



A TASTE for reading is important to all intel- 
lectual beings. To our sex, it m-ay be pronounced 
peculiarly necessary. It is important to all, be- 
cause it is the way in which aliment is convej^ed 
to the mind ; and to our sex peculiarly necessary, 
because dwelling much on the contemplation of 
little things, they are in danger of losing the intel- 
lectual appetite. Their sphere of household em- 
ployment, engi'ossing much attention to its cardi- 
nal points, " what shall we eat, and wherewithal 
be clothed," disposes the mind either to pine away 
in the atrophy of ignorance, or to be puffed up 
with the vanity of superficial knowledge. A taste 
for reading is therefore to them, an armour of de- 
fence. It is also a resource, when the world re- 
veals its emptiness, or the things of the world con 
fess their inability to satisfy the heart. Men go 
abroad into the busy current of life, and throw 
aside their chagrins and disappointments, and lose 
the narrowness of personal speculation, in its ever- 
fluctuating tide. Home, the woman's province, 
admits of less variety. She should therefore, di- 
versify it by an acquaintance with the world of in- 



I 



BOOKS. 147 

tellect, and shed over it the freshness derived from 
the exhaustless fountains of knowledge. She 
should render herself an entertaining and instruct- 
ive fireside companion, by daily replenishing her 
treasury, with that gold which the hand of the 
robber may not waste, nor the rust of time cor- 
rode. The love of books is also a refuge in those 
seasons of indisposition, when active duties are 
laid aside, when even conversation is a burden, 
and that gayety of heart w^hich was as sunshine to 
life's landscape, has taken its flight. In youth and 
health, you can scarcely appreciate the truth of 
this argument. But confirm now your taste for 
reading into a habit, and when the evil days come, 
you will be better able to prove its value, than I 
am to enforce it. 

Devote even the fragments of your leisure to 
some useful book. Phny employed a person to 
be always reading to him, as he rode from place 
to place, in his sedan. He made extracts, even 
from common works, for he said, " there is no 
book so poor, as not to afl'ord something valuable." 
The great Roman orator, Cicero, read with a pen 
in his hand, ever making comments. *' Secure 
the interstices of your time," says the celebrated 
Robert Hall, " and you will be astonished to find 
how much reading you will get through in a year." 
Yet I trust that you will not be contented to leave 
a pursuit of such magnitude, to casual and inter- 
rupted portions of time. I hope to persuade you 
to establish a systematick course of reading. A 



148 BOOKS. 

statesman of Queen Elizabeth, who was well ac 
quainted with her habits, said in the quaint Ian 
guage of lho5?e times : " That great princess used 
to the very last year of her life, to appomi set 
hours for reading, scarcely any young student of 
any university, more daily, or more duly." Set 
apart a stated period of each day for this employ- 
ment. Have it understood, that it is not to be dis- 
pensed with, except from imperative necessity. 
Do not dismiss your habits of study, when you 
cease to attend school. That crisis is often a haz- 
ardous one, in the history of a young lady. If she 
has gained distinction there, without a radical love 
of knowledge, her improvement ceases with the 
excitement that sustained it. If a latent fondness 
for expensive dress and fashionable amusements 
was cherished in her period of classical education 
she will rush into them w^ith an eagerness proper 
tioned to her previous restraint. Satisfied with 
past honours, and believing that she " has already 
attained, and is already perfect," she slumbers at 
her post, and in a few 3^ears, perceives those out- 
stripping her, whose talents she once held in con- 
tempt. Every young lady who, at leaving school, 
entertains a clear and comfortable conviction that 
she has finished her education, should recollect 
the reproof of the excellent Dr. Rush to a young 
physician, who spoke of the time when he finished 
his studies : " When you finished your studies ! 
Why, you must be a happy man to have finished 
Bo young. I do not expect to finish mine as long 



BOOKS. 149 

as I live." Life is but one great school, and we 
are all pupils, differing in growth and progress ; 
but all subjects of discipline, all invested with the 
proud privilege of acquiring knowledge, as long as 
the mind retains its powers. There is an affect- 
ing lesson in the death of that philosopher, who, 
after it was supposed that breath had forsaken him, 
faintly raised his head to listen to some improving 
conversation that was conducted in his chamber, 
and even drew the curtain, saying, "J shall be 
most happy to die, learning something, "^^ 

But while the value of knowledge renders a 
taste for reading so important, the choice of books 
is equally so. They produce the same effect on 
the mind, that diet does on the body. They may 
either impart no salutary nutriment, or convey 
that which is pernicious. Miscellaneous reading 
has become so fashionable, and its materials so 
multifarious, that it is difficult to know how to se- 
lect, or where to fix a limit. May w^e not say, 
with my Lord Bacon, " there seemeth to be a su- 
perfluity of books. But shall no more be made ? 
Yea ! make more good books, which, like the rod of 
Moses, may devour the serpents of the enchanters." 

Works of imagination usually predominate in 
the libraries of young ladies. To condemn them 
in a mass, as has been sometimes done, is hardly 
just. Some of them are the productions of the 
finest minds, and abound with the purest senti- 
ments. Yet, discrimination, with regard to them, 
is exceedingly important, and such discrimination 

13* 



150 BOOKS. 

as a novice cannot exercise. The young should 
therefore ask guidance of an experienced and cul- 
tivated mind, and devote to this class of reading, 
only a moderate portion of time, as to a recreation. 
Frequent and long indulgence in it, creates disgust 
at the patient acquisition of solid learning, as com- 
pound and poignant dishes destroy a relish for 
plain and healthful food. It forms habits of de- 
sultory thought, and uproots mental discipline. It 
makes it an object not to read and remember^ but 
to read and he amused. So the fanciful palate is 
pleased, and the imagination pampered, while the 
hungering judgment, to borrow Cowper's simile, 
^* looks up, and is not fed." 

Among works of this description, those which 
are denominated novels of deep and stirring inter- 
est, are calculated to heighten in the young mind 
those powers which need no excitement. In the 
language of Mrs. Hannah More : — 

" They add fresh strength, to what before was strong.'* 

Habits of excursive fancy, and illusive views of 
life, are not salutary in their influence on those 
whose business it is to reason, and to act ; to bear, 
and to forbear. If such works ever exercise a 
beneficial tendency, it must be in the season of 
age, when torpor is stealing over the faculties, 
when the feelings need quickening by touching 
the nerve of early and tender association, and 
memory would sink into lethargy were she not 
awakened by the heart. They can no longer mis- 



BOOKS. 151 

lead the traveller when his journey is accomplish- 
ed. He can compare their highly coloured deline- 
ations with the sober truth of life's " twice told 
tale," and be safely entertained. Yet there is no 
need for the young to exhaust the cordials of age. 
It is w^iser to be busied in furnishing a full store- 
house for that approaching winter, when the errors 
of seedtime cannot be corrected, nor the sloth of 
harvest repaired, when the mind in its weariness, 
is too feeble to dig, and in its poverty, to " beg 
will be ashamed." 

History has ever been warmly commended to 
the attention of the young. It imparts knowledge 
of human nature, and supplies lofty subjects for 
contemplation. It should be read with constant 
reference to geography and chronology. A fine 
writer has called these "the eyes of history." 
They are also the grappling irons by which it ad- 
heres to memory. As some historians are defi- 
cient in dates, or not lucid in their arrangement, a 
table of chronology, and an atlas, ancient and mod- 
ern, should be the inseparable companions of all 
books of history, which are to be studied with 
profit. It is a good practice to fix in the memory 
some important eras — the subversion of an empire, 
for instance — and then ascertain what events w^ere 
taking place in all other nations, at the same period 
of time. A few of these parallels, running through 
the History of the World, w^ill collect rich clusters 
of knowledge, and arrange them in the conserva- 
tory of the mind. 



152 BOOKS. 

History is replete with moral lessons. The in- 
stability of human power, the tyranny of man over 
his brother, and the painful truth that the great are 
not always the good, mark almost every feature of 
its annals. 

Read History with candour and independence of 
mind. The opinions of the historian should be 
examined, and the gilding stripped from false 
glory. The admiration so profusely bestowed on 
warriors and conquerors, should be analyzed. And 
if conquerors are discovered to have wrought more 
evil than good, to have polluted the fountains of 
peace and liberty, and to have wantonly shed blood 
and caused misery for their own aggrandizement, 
let the sentence upon their deeds be given in 
equity, though the heathen world counted them 
as gods, and Christendom blindly sanctioned the 
homage. 

Next in intellectual interest to History, and su- 
perior to it in its influence upon the heart, is the 
study of Biography. If, according to Livy, " the 
mind, in contemplating antiquity, itself becomes 
antique," — the study of pure and elevated charac- 
ters, will have a tendency to impart to the student 
some degree of similarity. Through this familiar 
intercourse with the wise and good, we forget the 
difference of rank, and the distance upon earth's 
surface that divided us. We almost listen to their 
voices, and number them among our household 
friends. We see the methods by which they be- 
came distinguished, the labours by which their emi- 



BOOKS. 153 

nence was purchased, the piety that rendered them 
beloved, and our desire of imitation is awakened. 
As by oar chosen associates, the character is mod- 
ified, so the heart exhibits some transcript of the 
models kept most constantly in its view. 

The poets w^ill naturally be favourites, in the 
library of an educated young lady. They refine 
sensibility, and convey instruction. They are the 
friends of nature and knowledge, and quicken in 
the heart, a taste for both. '' The song of the 
Muse, allureth to the land of learning," says a 
quaint yet shrewd writer. " The poet," saith Sir 
Philip Sydney, *' doth at the very first, give you a 
cluster of grapes, that full of their taste, you may 
long to pass further. This world is a brazen 
world — the poets alone deliver r golden one, which 
whoever dislikes, the fault is in their judgment, and 
not in the sweet food of sweetly-uttered know 
ledge, ^^ 

Your course of reading, should also comprise 
the annals of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture. 
Perhaps, human genius has never displayed itself 
more gloriously than in these departments. To 
throw life into inanimate canvass — to make dull 
marble breathe — indicate as much of creative 
power, as may be deputed to man. The efforts of 
the Grecian chisel have been the world's admira- 
tion for two thousand years. And though the 
colours of that pencil have fadeu,the names of those 
painters still survive in the fresnness of immortal- 
ity. Upon the revival of letters, genius would not 



154 BOOKS. 

long be withheld from her favourite occupations 
Michael Angelo seized with unfaltering hand the 
chisel of Phidias. Raphael and Titian, Correggio 
and Guido, successively emulated, in their radiant 
traces and fine conceptions, their elder brethren of 
the Grecian school. Architecture, in its various 
orders, and grades of proportion and symmetry, is 
worthy of attention. It is true, that the Fine Arts 
are not indigenous to our infant country. But her 
cradle-reachin^s have been after them, and she has 
surely wielded the pencil with no feeble hand. 
The destiny of an educated woman may perhaps 
lead her to the older continent — or before the 
bright eyes that explore these pages are dim 
with age, our native artists, or our increasing mu- 
nificence, may furnish the means of viewing and 
admiring at home, those monuments of taste, 
which mingle with the glory of Europe. 

Mental Philosophy claims a high rank among 
the studies of youth. It promotes self-knowledge, 
one of the direct avenues to wisdom. If the map 
of man be interesting, though darkened with 
crimes, and stained with blood, how much more, 
the peaceful map of the mind, that " mind, which 
is the standard of the man." — " Ye admire," savs 
an ancient philosopher, *' the Georgicks of Virgil, 
why slight ye the georgicks of the mind, which 
treat of the husbandry and tillage thereof?" 

I am persuaded that you would find Logick a 
subject of sufficient interest to enter into your 
course of reading. The art of thwJcing, so im- 



BOOKS. 



165 



portant to all who have the power of thought, is 
possibly too little studied by our sex. Our in- 
verted mode of reasoning, and the slight structure 
of our arguments, often expose us to the criticism 
even of school-boys. A science, which, according 
to the concise definition of Watts, " teaches to use 
reason well, in inquiries after truth," is an impor- 
tant aid in the acquisition of all other sciences. 

Ethicks and sacred literature, will undoubtedly 
occupy a prominent place in your system. These 
embrace a wide range, and comprehend some of 
the most gifted minds, of which our world can 
boast. Books for perusal on the Sabbath, should 
ever partake of the character of that consecrated 
day. The command, to rescue a seventh part of 
our time from the vanities of life, and select such 
topicks of meditation and discourse, as serve to pre- 
pare for a higher and purer state of existence, is 
indeed a great privilege. I pray you to regard it 
as such, and to improve it faithfully. It will break 
in upon the follies of the week, and form link after 
link of that golden chain, which binds the heart to 
heaven. 

The author of the excellent lecture on the 
" Temporal Benefits of the Sabbath," remarks : 
" Almost every one knows the effect of a journey 
on the views that we habitually take of our busi- 
ness. We look back from a distance, and find 
that to some things we had given far too large a 
place in our thoughts, and in our hearts. We cor- 
rect our false estimates, and return to our post« 



156 BOOKS. 

with rectified judgment, as well as renovated 
health. The Sabbath has a similar effect in clear- 
ing away the mists that blind our judgment, and 
we shall never know in this world, from how many 
foolish and ruinous plans we have escaped through 
its influence. The current of earthly schemes and 
cares must be checked, the chain of worldly asso- 
ciations broken, or as to intellectual benefits, the 
Sabbath comes and goes in vain. The power to 
check this current, to break this chain, belongs 
chiefly to the sublime and momentous concerns of 
eternity. They disenchant the heart, as nothing 
else can, of the spirit of gain and ambition. They 
drive the ' strong man armed ' from his castle, and 
give the imprisoned mind, a temporary respite." 

Let the Scriptures form a part of the study of 
every day. Read a stated portion in the morning, 
with the aid of some commentary, and let its spirit 
go w^ith you as a guide and a counsellor. Never 
read the book of Heaven in haste, or as a task, 
with a wandering intellect, or without subsequent 
meditation. 

All systematick reading should be with a fixed 
.pui'pose to remember and to profit. Cultivate the 
retentive power, by daily and persevering exercise. 
If any one complains that she has a weak memory 
it is her own fault. She does not take due pains 
to give it strength. Does she forget the period 
for meals, the season for repose ? Does she for- 
get the appointed hour for the evening party, or 
to furnish herself with a fitting dress in which to 



BOOKS. 157 

appear there ? Does she forget the plot of the last 
romance, or the notes of a fashionable piece of 
musick ? Yet some of these involve detail, and 
require application. 

Why then might not the same mind contain a 
few historical facts, with their correlative dates ? 
Frankly, because it does not feel the same inter- 
est, nor put forth the same effort. Some, who are 
not willing entirely to forget what they read, con- 
tent themselves with making extracts from the 
books that pass through their hands. But this is 
not a successful mode of impressing their con- 
tents. To form a written memory is like " ma- 
king to ourselves a graven image," and suffering the 
spiritual essence to escape. All reliance on mem- 
oranda is a false indulgence to memory. It is 
keeping her in leading-strings, when she should 
walk erect, like a labourer to the field. It would 
seem that she shared in the indolence of our com- 
mon nature, and would willingly accept of any 
substitute, that would relieve her from responsibil- 
ity. But so important are her functions to the 
welfare of the immortal mind, that she should feel 
it her duty to be as sleepless as the Roman senti- 
nel, and be made to answer for her sin, if the idea 
committed to her custody escape. 

I am inclined to think memoiy capable of indef- 
inite improvement, by a judicious and persevering 
regimen. Read, therefore, what you desire to re- 
member, with concentrated and undivided atten- 
tion. Close the book, and reflect. Undigested 

Id 



158 BOOKS. 

food throws the whole frame mto a ferment. 
Were we as well acquainted with our intellectual, 
as with our physical structure, we should see un- 
digested knowledge producing equal disorder in 
the mind. 

To strengthen the memory, the best course is 
not to commit page after page verbatim, but to 
give the substance of the author, correctly and 
clearly in your own language. Thus the under- 
standing and memory are exercised at the same 
time, and the prosperity of the mind is not so 
much advanced, by the undue prominence of any 
one faculty, as by the true balance, and vigorous 
action of all. Memory and understanding are also 
fast friends, and the light which one gains will be 
reflected upon the other. 

Use judgment in selecting from the mass of 
what you read the parts which it will be useful 
or desirable to remember. Separate and arrange 
them, and give them in charge to memory. Tell 
her it is her duty to keep them, and to bring them 
forth when you require. She has the capacities 
of a faithful servant, and possibly the dispositions 
of an idle one. But you have the power of enfor- 
cing obedience, and of overcoming her infirmities. 
At the close of each day, let her come before you, 
as Ruth came to Naomi, and " beat out that 
which she has gleaned." Let her winnow repeat- 
edly, what she has brought from the field, and 
" gather the wheat into the garner," ere she goes 
to repose. 



BOOKS. 159 

This process, so far from being laborious, is one 
of the most delightful that can be imagined. To 
condense, is perhaps the only difficult part of it ; 
for the casket of memory, though elastic, has 
bounds, and if surcharged with trifles, the weigh- 
tier matters will find no fitting place. 

While Memory is in this course of training, it 
would be desirable to read no books whose con- 
tents are not worth her care : for if she finds her- 
self called only occasionally, she may take airs, 
like a frowaid child, and not come, when she is 
called. Make her feel it as a duty, to stand with 
her tablet ready, whenever you open a book, and 
then show her sufficient respect, not to summon 
her to any book unworthy of her. 

To facilitate the management of Memory, it is 
well to keep in view, that her office is threefold 
Her first effort is to receive knowledge ; her sec- 
ond, to retain it ; her last, to bring it forthy when 
it is needed. The first act is solitary, the silence 
of fixed attention. The next is also sacred to her- 
self and her ruling power, and consists in frequent, 
thorough examination of the state and order of the 
things committed to her. The third act is social, 
rendering her treasures available to the good of 
others. Daily intercourse with a cultivated mind, 
is the best method to rivet, refine and polish the 
hoarded gems of knowledge. Conversation with 
intelligent men, is eminently serviceable. For 
after all our exultation on the advancing state of 
female education, with the other sex will be found 



160 BOOKS. 

the wealth of classical knowledge and profound 
wisdom. If you have a parent, or older friend, 
who will at the close of each day kindly listen to 
what you have read, and help to fix in your naem- 
ory, the portions most worthy of regard, count it 
a privilege of no common value, and embrace it 
with sincere gratitude. 

Weekly societies, organized on the plan of re- 
capitulation, render very important assistance to 
those who are earnestly engaged in a course of 
History. They should comprise but few mem- 
bers, and those of somew^hat congenial taste and 
feeling, that no cause of restraint or reserve may 
impede the free action of the mind. Three or four 
young ladies, with one or two older ones, will be 
found an agreeable and profitable number. Let 
the system to be pursued, and the authors to be 
studied, be a subject of mutual arrangement, and 
at the stated meeting, let each compress the sub- 
stance of what she has read during the week, 
relate the principal events v/ith their chronology, 
and as far as possible raention what was taking 
place at the same period of time, in the annals of 
other nations. Opinions dissenting from those ot 
the historian should be freely given, with the rea- 
sons for such variaiion, and the discussions which 
arise, w^ill both serve to fix knowledge firmly in the 
memory, and aid in forming a correct judgment 
of the character and deeds of those, whom History 
has embalmed. If to read, each of the same era 
or people, produces monotony, the history of dif- 



BOOKS. 161 

ferent nations may be studied, or one can pursue 
a course of biography, another of mental philoso- 
phy, the natural sciences, or theology, and thus 
vary the mental banquet. From this partnership 
in ii:nowledge, great increase of intellectual wealth 
will be derived, while your subjects of thought and 
conversation will be perceptibly elevated. "The 
elevation of the mind^'^ says Burke, " ought to be 
the principle end of all our studies : which, if they 
do not in some measure effect, they are of very 
Jittle service to us." 

Books, as a species of property, seem to be often 
incorrectly estimated. They are borrowed and 
injured without compunction, borrowed and not 
returned, and still the conscience is at rest. The 
owner may sustain inconvenience by waiting, or 
damage by loss, but the depredator is unmoved. 
If a young lady borrows a shawl or an umbrella in 
a shower, she returns them without injury ; if she 
takes the loan of a dollar from her friend's purse, 
she repays it promptly. But a book from her 
library, she may be months in reading, or in not 
reading ; may abuse and see abused, or not restore 
at all, unless the owner take the trouble to claim 
it. Why are the treasures of Genius, less regarded 
than the silkworm's w^eb ? and why is it dishonest 
to steal a dollar, and honest to detain, deface, or 
destroy a book worth tw^ice that sum ? 

I have known a kind-hearted ow^ner of books, 
who prized literary property as it ought to be 
prized, persist in lending to careless persons, who 

14=* 



1 62 BOOKS. 

continued tenaciously to retain possession, till at 
length she would be forced to go and " gather to- 
gether her dispersed, that were scattered abroad." 
To collect and identify them was no slight labour, 
but patiently would she search book-shelf, sofa and 
work-basket, and return loaded with her recovered 
treasures, like a shepherd bringing stray sheep 
from the wilderness. 

I would have books treated with reverence. I 
cannot bear to see even a child spoil the spelling 
book from which it has learned the alphabet. It 
savours of ingratitude to a benefactor. Were the 
books of children composed of better materials, 
and executed, in a more tasteful style, the habit of 
preserving them would doubtless be earlier and 
more faithfully inculcated. A sort of sacredness 
seems to attach itself even to the page, on which 
knowledge has impressed its lineaments, and the 
cover w^hich protects it from defilement, and from 
the atmosphere. " Every child," says Dr. D wight, 
in his theology, " should be taught to pay all his 
debts, and to fulfil all his contracts, exactly in the 
manner, completely in the value, punctually at 
the time. Every thing which he has borrowed, 
he should be obliged to return, uninjured, at the 
time specified, and every thing belonging to others, 
which he has lost, he should be required to re- 
place." Would that this excellent principle were 
wrought in with the basis of female education. 

And now, dear young ladies, let me release you 
from this long dissertation upon books, after I have 



BOOKS, 163 

commended them to your intimacy as friends^ 
safe, accessible, instructive, never encroaching, and 
never offended at the neglect of any point of eti- 
quette. Can this be said of all your associates ? 

When intercourse with the living becomes irk- 
some, or insipid, summon to your side the departed 
spirits of the mighty dead. Would you think it 
an honour to be introduced into the presence of 
princes and prelates,, or to listen to the voice of 
Plato or Socrates ? Close the door of your read- 
ing-room, and they congregate around you. Yea, 
a Greater than Socrates will be there, if you pon- 
der his words, with an humble and teachable soul. 
If trifles have disturbed you during the day, sages 
will admonish you of the serenity and dignity 
which ought to characterize the immortal mind. 

Has ambition deluded you ? the fallen monarch 
will show you the vanity of adulation, and the hol- 
lowness of all human glory. Are you out of spir- 
its ? the melody of the poet shall sooth you, and 
do for you, what the harp of David did for the 
moodiness of Saul. Has friendship grieved you ? 
They offer you consolation, on whose virtues 
Death has stamped the seal, never to change. 
Make friendship with the illustrious dead. Your 
slightest wish, as a talisman, will gather from dis- 
tant clim.es, and remote ages, those who can sat- 
isfy the thirst of the mind, from the deepest foun- 
tains of knowledge. 

One volume there is, whose spirit can heal the 
wounded heart. When it sorrows for its own in- 



164 BOOKS. 

firmities, and for the unsatisfying nature of earth's 
vaunted pleasures, the voice of prophets and 
apostles, lifted up from its inspired pages, teaches 
the way to that world " w^here is fulness of joy, 
and pleasures for evermore." 

Let me close in the eloquent words of the author 
of " Lectures to Young Men." " This book, the 
eldest surviving offspring of the human intellect, 
the chosen companion of patriarchs, prophets, 
apostles, and of all the wisest and best men who 
have ever lived ; this book that reveals to us the 
character and will of our great Creator, and final 
Judge ; that opens for us the way of salvation 
through a Redeemer ; unveils to our view the in- 
visible world, and show^s us the final destiny of 
our race ; this book which God has given, ex- 
pressly to teach us our character, our duty, and 
our prospects, which has conducted to heaven all 
who have reached that happy w^orld, and must 
conduct us thither, if ever we attain to its blessed- 
ness ; this book ought surely to be held by us, in 
the highest place of respect and honour, to be made 
the guide of our youth, the companion of our age, 
our solace and support in all the prosperous or 
trying passages of life." 



LETTER X. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



So sweet is the idea of friendship, that its name 
is one of the earliest upon our lips, and the latest 
to linger there. The child, in its migration from 
nursery to school, selects a favourite playmate, and 
in bestowing its simple gifts and caresses, nurses 
the latent capacities of friendship. " This is my 
friend^'* says the young lady, who during the 
progress of her education, presents ardently and 
proudly to her parents, what she conceives to be a 
kindred spirit. '' My friends are gone,^^ mourn- 
fully exclaims the hoary man, while the conscious- 
ness that he must " finish his journey alone," deep- 
ens the acquiescence, with which he lies down in 
the grave. 

But the name of friendship is more common than 
the reality. Many who are familiar with its terms, 
have never fathomed its depth, or tasted its purity. 
They may have learned to describe or compute 
the "unrusting gold," without the power to acquire 
or to retain it. In this respect, as well as in a far 
higher sense, " not every one, that saith Lord, 
Lord, shall enter mto the kingdom." 

A rare combmation of virtues, ib* requisite to 



166 FRIENDSHIP. 

friendship. A generous, disinterested, aflfectionaie 
spirit, elevation of character, and firmness of prin- 
ciple, are among its essential elements. It is no 
wonder that the plant is not of more frequent 
growth. 

I hope that each one for whom I write, may be 
capable of a deep and enduring friendship, for one 
of her own sex. I do not of course, refer to that 
gregarious principle, which prompts to promiscu- 
ous associations, or multiplies hasty and change- 
ful intimacies. This is sufficiently prominent in 
the susceptible season of youth, and sometimer 
leads to errors which it is difficult to rectify, oi 
produces results, which are to be repented of 
The qualities that constitute a good friend^ reflect 
lustre on human nature. 

It was numbered among the excellences of the 
Rev. Charles Wesley, that he was formed for 
friendship. *' His cheerfulness and vivacity, ever 
refreshed the heart of his friend : with attentive 
consideration he would enter into, and settle all 
his concerns, as far as he was able — would do any 
thing for his good, either great or small, and by a 
habit of openness and freedom, leave no room for 
misunderstanding." Whenever these lineaments 
of character are brought into reciprocal action, they 
produce that high and hallowed intercourse, which 
makes mutual dependance a blessing. The 
friendship, which I hope each of you may be able 
to attain and exemplify, comprises sympathy in 
sorrow, counsel in doubt, encouragement in virtui?. 



FRIEJSDSHIP. 167 

that blending of the strength of two spirits, which 
nothing but death can part, and which cemented by 
piety, looks to a consummation in that purer clime, 
where " affection's cup hath lost the taste of tears " 

If you seek permanent friendship, look to the basis 
on which it is erected. The first native material 
for the hand of the architect, seems to be conge- 
niality of taste, pursuit, or principle. That opin- 
ions should always harmonize, is not necessary. 
This w^ould fetter originality of thought and abridge 
freedom of intercourse. It would involve too fre- 
quent sacrifices of the prerogative of judgment, 
and affect independence of sentiment. Still that 
degi'ee of similarity in mental structure is desir- 
able, which prevents frequent discords, and does 
not leave the feelings in opposite zones. 

Friendships founded in fondness for fashionable 
amusements, must be fluctuating. Their texture 
is like the wing of the butterfly. They are in- 
capable of forming a chain for the heart. Those 
intimacies which spring up from community in 
prejudice, are perverted at the root, and will 
scarcely be more stable than the passions or en- 
mities which gave them birth. Partaking of an 
unwholesome nutriment, their fruits will be bitter, 
and their inflvience on the heart, baleful. " The 
friendships of youth," said a severe moralist, " are 
but too often combinations for vice, or leagues in 
pleasure." We trust that the epithet often is mis- 
applied. At le-ast, the name oi friendship ought 
not to be coupled with such definitions. 



168 FRIENDSHIP. 

Reciprocity of intellectual taste, gives a genial 
soil for friendship. Hence, it so frequently takes 
root, during the progress of education. The fruits 
of knowledge are easily engrafted upon so gener- 
ous a stock. The interwoven tendrils and bud 
dings of genius, communicate a strength and fra- 
grance, peculiar to themselves. " That perfect 
unity of feeling," says D'Israeli, " w-hich makes 
of two individuals, one being, was well displayed 
in the memorable friendship of Beaumont and 
Fletcher, whose labours were so combined that no 
critic can detect the mingled production of either, 
and whose lives were so closely united, that no 
biographer can compose the memoirs of one, w^ith- 
out running into those of the other." 

Love of literature is an affinity of no common 
fervour, and if undisturbed by competition, ripens 
mto a peculiar and almost ethereal tenderness* 
The friendship of Petrarch and Boccacio had this 
basis. When the former passed through Florence, 
in 1350, he was full of curiosity to see the man, 
whose premature powers had excited the astonish- 
ment of Italy, and who at seven years old, ere he 
was capable of defining poetry, had composed it. 
But he found him engaged in trifling and desultory 
efforts, unworthy of his genius. Petrarch, then at 
the height of his reputation, having received the 
crown, and that enthusiastic idolatry, with which 
his countrymen fostered literary ambition, con- 
ceived a friendship, both honourable to him.self and 
beneficial to its object. Its first effort was like 



FRIENDSHIP. 169 

that of Socrates for Alcibiades. By decided ad- 
monitions, he roused him to more severe labours, 
and exalted pursuits. Boccacio, yielding to this 
influence, awoke as to a new being. By applica- 
tion, he sought for some portion of that learning 
and classick elegance of style, which distinguished 
his disinterested adviser. Starting forth from in- 
dolent repose, he became active for the welfare of 
his country, he took part in the various embassies, 
he laboured to promote the happiness of the peo- 
ple, to diminish the prevalent errors of the great, 
and to advance the diffusion of knowledge. 

Petrarch rejoiced in the quickening and almost 
transforming power of his friendship. Its first 
office had been to elevate character. Its second, 
was equally ennobling, to sustain under poverty 
and obloquy. For both of these came upon Boc- 
cac'o. In toils for the publick good, he had ex- 
pended his fortune, and the jealousy of little minds, 
followed him, with its scorpion lash. At one period, 
every friend forsook him. Petrarch alone re- 
mained immoveable. " Come to me," he said ; 
" my purse and my home, like my heart, are 
yours." But the delicacy of Boccacio, shrank 
from dependance, even upon the most generous of 
friends. Retiring to his little cottage in Certaldo, 
he w^ished to bury himself in hermit contempla- 
tions. Thither disease followed him, so that to 
read, to write, or to think, became a burden. But 
the remembrance of the friendship of Petrarch was 
a balm, when the ef^sence of life sonmed exhaling, 

15 



170 FRIENDSHIP. 

The slow lapse of years brought him health. By 
the urgency of the Florentines, he was again in- 
duced to assume the duties of a professorship. 
There he lectured for a year with his accvistomed 
eloquence. Then, tidings of the death of Petrarch 
fell like a blight upon him. The only being who 
had inspirited him to excellence was gone. The 
last link of a most generous friendship, had van- 
ished. It was a shock, he had not vigour to sus- 
tain. Henceforth, the world to him, was a desert. 
His bereaved sensibilities fed on the springs of life, 
and he soon followed to the grave the only friend 
whose affection had never swerved. 

Similar, though still more tragick, was the grief 
of the poet and historian, Politiano, for the loss of 
his illustrious friend, Lorenzo de Medici. After 
the decease of his patron, his genius drooped, and 
his literary ambition languished. The image of 
him, who had fostered his talents, and listened 
with delight to his verses, seemed present with 
him, but to deepen his melancholy. The misfor- 
tunes that befell the Medicean family, he deplored 
as his own. It was in 1494, while fitting some 
elegiack stanzas Avhich he had composed on the 
memory of his beloved friend Lorenzo, to the harp, 
that his eyes dim with tears, deceived him, and fal- 
ling from the head of a flight of stairs, he expired. 

There is a sentiment of friendship for the illus- 
trious dead, to which refined minds are susceptible. 
Towards those, whose pages have imparted to us 
knowledge and delight, we turn in moments of 



FRIENDSHIP. 171 

solitude with sacred and tender regard. We al- 
most imagine them to be standing by our side, and 
hearkening to our gratitude. They have left us 
an inalienable bequest, a " treasure that waxeth 
not old." We commune with them as benefactors, 
we rejoice in the " sad but exalting relationship to 
the great minds that have passed away, and ex- 
plore an unbounded range of noble scenes, in the 
overawing company of departed genius and wis- 
dom." 

The highest sentiments and noblest pursuits of 
our nature, should be invoked to give permanence 
to friendship. " It is an error," says an ingenious 
philosopher of our times, " to found attachment on 
the low^er faculties, wdiich are unstable, instead of 
building it on those higher sentiments which afford 
a foundation, for real, lasting, and satisfactory 
friendships. In complaining of the vanity and 
vexation of intimacies, springing exclusively from 
the lower faculties, we are like men who should 
try to build a pyramid on its smaller end, and 
lament the hardness of their fate, and the unkind- 
ness of Providence when it fell." 

Reciprocity of religious feeling and principle is 
the best groundwork for enduring friendship. 
*' There is no true friendship," said St. Augustine, 
*' but that which God cements." Piety and friend- 
ship enjoin congenial duties. One enforces the 
extirpation of selfishness : the other requires the 
exercise of the disinterested virtues. One de- 
mands the charity, w^hich " seeketh not its own, 



172 FRIENDSHIP. 

and thinketh no evil," — the other prompts that 
sweet preference of another's good, which is alhed 
alike to benevolence and humility. 

The inimitable portrait of friendship given us in 
the pages of Inspiration illustrates, with great 
power, the principles of generosity and gratitude 
Jonathan, the heir to the throne of Israel, and 
taught to connect all his high hopes and prospects 
with so precious a birthright, sees in his friend, 
the person designated to supplant him in that royal 
dignity. The w^atchful eye and jealous mind of 
Saul, is ever deepening the suggestion : " As long 
as the son of Jesse liveth upon the earth, thou 
shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom." But 
the friendship w^iich '' had knit his soul to that of 
David, so that he loved him as his own soul," 
resists every temptation. He repels the venge- 
ful policy of his father, relinquishes his own ag- 
grandizement, and puts his life in peril for his 
friend. 

David, precluded by his situation, from display- 
ing equal magnanimity, evinces a gratitude which 
absorbs his whole soul — that gratitude which 
dw^ells only with noble natures, and is the test of 
what their generosity would have been, had 
Heaven given them the power of conferring bene- 
fits. His elegy on his fallen friend breathes the 
very spirit of tenderness and sorrow. One of his 
first inquiries, after his elevation to the throne, 
when the w?3's and tumults through which he had 
long struggled, began to subside into tranquillity, 



FRIENDSHIP 173 

reveals the cherished warmth of giateful friend- 
ship : " Is there any yet left of the house of Saul, 
that I may show him kindness for Jonathan's 
sake ?" 

How affecting is his tenderness to the desolate 
and decrepit son of Jonathan, whom he sought out 
in obscurity and want : " Fear not, I will surely 
show thee kindness for Jonathan, thy father's 
sake.'' His imperishable gratitude embraces even 
the memory of Saul, his mortal enemy, by whom 
he had been " hunted, as a partridge on the moun- 
tains." He remembered only that he was the 
father of his friend. With what reverence does 
he speak of that unhappy monarch, and how affec- 
tionately does he return thanks to those, who ren- 
dered him the rites of sepulture : " Blessed be ye, 
that ye have showed this kindness unto your lord, 
and have buried him, and now the Lord show 
kindness and truth unto you, and I also will re- 
quite you, because ye have done this thing." 

It would seem that the simplicity of ancient 
times, was more favourable than our own, to the 
developments of self-devoted friendship. The 
history of remote ages, records instances which 
have no modern parallel. To hazard fortune, 
safety, or even life for a friend, was held consist- 
ent with the obligations of that sacred preference. 
Now, it scarcely evinces sufficient courage to de- 
fend the chosen individual, against the aspersions 
or ridicule of fashionable society. In searching 
for the reasons of this difference, we perceive that 

15* 



174 FRIENDSHIP. 

the artificial structure of society has changed the 
requisitions of friendship and checked its vitahty. 
Promiscuous association, is adverse to its health- 
ful growth. Its principle requires concentration. 
If diffused over too wide a surface its essence es- 
capes. Perhaps, it is scarcely capable of expan- 
sion, without being exhaled. Formal and cere- 
monious visiting, to the exclusion of that simple 
intercourse w^hich opens the heart, nourishes 
habits which are inimical to friendship. She who 
invites her " dear five hundred friends," and lav- 
ishes much time and expense on the entertain- 
ment, perhaps, loves not one of them in her 
heart. Those studied courtesies, in which truth 
has little part, tend to bewilder and break up that 
sincerity, which is an essential element of friend- 
ship. 

Kindness, benevolence, and good manners, are 
due to all with whom we associate. But the in- 
timacy w^hich leads to entire confidence, should be 
bestowed on few, perhaps, reserved for one alone. 
Hence, the choice of that single friend, becomes a 
point of incalculable importance. 

Friendship has been always a favourite theme 
with the poets. Among English bards, none have 
more minutely analyzed or dissected it, than Dr. 
Young. Permit me here to inquire, if his " Night 
Thoughts" have not become too entirely, and un- 
justly obsolete, and if many a young lady might 
not find in them, some profitable hint for serious 
contemplation Hear him on our chosen theme ; 



FRIENDSHIP. ^*75 

Deliberate on all things, with thy friend, 

But since friends grow not thick on every bough, 

First, on thy friend, deliberate with thyself. 

Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice, 

Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix : 

Judge before friendship, then confide till death.'*^ 

The tendency of the younger part of our sex, to 
form friendships, has been ridiculed as a weakness 
by some severe critics. I consider it rather as a 
virtue, as an indication of amiable susceptibility, 
and a disposition to acknowledge that mutual de- 
pendance, which is the law of our nature. Still it 
requires more judgment than usually falls to the 
lot of youth, to guard it from that disappointment 
which accompanies hasty preferences, and that in- 
constancy and danger which are created by pro- 
miscuous and changing intimacies. Correct prin- 
ciples, kind feelings, good sense and incorruptible 
integrity, are the natural and safe corner-stones for 
the temple of friendship. That there should be 
no great dissimilarity in rank, station or education, 
seems desirable. Where striking disparities exist, 
the union of sentiment cannot be perfect, and situ- 
ations may arise, in which one party, feeling in- 
flated, and the other abased, loss of confidence will 
be the result. 

If you have been so happy as to find a friend, 
with whom your pursuits and pleasures may be 
shared, whose sympathy awaits your sorrows, who 
gives strength to your good resolutions, and with 
whom your secret thoughts are as safe as in your 
own bosom, guard tho. precious treasure by every 



176 FRIENDSHIP. 

demonstration of true and invariable regard. You 
have found what the wise son of Sirach styles the 
" medicine of life." Be grateful to the Giver of 
all good, and be faithful to the duties that such a 
possession devolves upon you. Since friendship 
is a blessing from heaven, consecrate it as the 
means of mutual preparation for admission there. « 

Merit confidence by frankness, at the same time, 
that you guard with fidelity, whatever secret may 
be intrusted to you. " Reserve wounds friend- 
ship, and distrust destroys." 

To point out to each other mutual faults and 
imperfections, in the spirit of tenderness, and with 
a view to improvement and elevation of character, 
marks a high grade of attainment in the science of 
friendship. Avoid that tendency to fickleness, and 
alienation for slight causes, which has disturbed 
or destroyed so many friendships. Cherish with 
unvarying regard the friends who have proved 
themselves faithful, and adopting the precept of 
Hamlet, 

" Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel." 

Strive to possess yourselves of the elements crl 
a science, more sublime than love, because less 
selfish, which is in grief a comforter, in difiicult 
duty a double strength, which has power to 
heighten joy, to ennoble all good properties, and to 
fit for the intercourse with pure spirits in a happier 
clime. 

Remember the fine example of Klopstock, 



FRIENDSHIP. 177 

whose confiding simplicity of character prepared 
him to awaken regard, who was even to the chill 
atmosphere of fourscore years, surrounded by 
tender and warmly expressed sympathies, and of 
whom it was beautifully said, that " all his life he 
clung to friendship, as the child clings to the breast 
of its mother." 



LETTER XI. 



CHEERFULNESS. 



Among the ingredients of happiness, few are 
more important than a habit of cheerfulness. Its 
lineaments are always beautiful. They have a 
tendency to reproduce themselves. The calm 
smile often images itself on the brow of another, 
and the sweet tone, if it fail to call forth one equally 
sweet, still sooths the ear and lulls the soul with 
its melody. A melancholy countenance, and a 
plaintive voice are contagious. " I have always," 
said the good Vicar of Wakefield, " been an ad- 
mirer of happy human faces." The sentiment is 
universal. The pleasure thus derived compensates 
for the absence of beauty, and supplies the defi- 
ciency of symmetry and grace. 

Cheerfulness is expected from the young. Tt is 
the natural temperament of life's brightest season. 
We are disappointed when we see a frown or 
gloom upon those features, which we persuade 
ourselves should be ever cloudless. It is as if in 
gathering spring's early violets, we found them 
thorny, or divested of fragrance. The open, clear 
glance, the unsuspicious aspect, the smile hovering 
around the lir>s of the gentle speaker, and interpret- 



CHEERFULNESS. 179 

iiig more perfectly than words, the harmony that 
dwells within, are inexpressibly cheering to those 
whom care has depressed, or age furrowed, or suf- 
fering taught distrust. 

The young, in cultivating those habits which 
promote cheerfulness, should remember that they 
are meeting the just demands of the community, 
paying an appropriate rent for their lodge among 
the flowers. That the happiness of others, may 
be thus promoted, will be a strong motive to the 
amiable and kind, to study those rules on which so 
valuable a science depends. 

A cheerful demeanour is particularly expected of 
young ladies. In their case, its absence is an 
especial fault. For if, among woman's household 
duties, it is numbered that she makes others happy, 
and if, in order to do this successfully, she must 
in some degree be happy herself, cheerfulness 
should be early confirmed into habit, and deeply 
founded in principle. 

A contented and grateful disposition is one of 
the elements of cheerfulness. Keeping our more 
minute blessings steadily in view, will be found a 
salutary exercise. Little kindnesses from those 
around us, should be reciprocated, and returned in 
the spirit of kindness. Forgetfulness of favours, or 
any tendency to ingratitude on our part, should be 
guarded against as an inroad upon justice, and a 
sure omen of incorrect and unhappy moral tenden 
cies. Recognition of the daily gifts of our unwea 
ried Benefactor, promotes cheerfulness and peace 



1 80 C H E E R r U L IV E S S . 

of mind. Contrast will aid us l their estimation. 
The pure water, which from its very a Tidance w^e 
cease to value, would be fully appreciate^ ^v the 
traveller parching amid African deserts, and by tiie 
poor camel of the caravan. The healthful air, 
which invigorates every nerve, and for which we 
fail to thank God, would be hailed by the suffering 
inmates of some crowded hospital, or the pale pris- 
oner in his loathsome dungeon. 

By remembering those whom disease has im 
moveably chained, or those whose eye and ear, 
light and sound have forsaken, we better learn to 
estimate the luxury of motion, and the value of 
those senses by which we hold communion with 
nature and with mind. The mansion that affords 
us shelter, the food that sustains us and with whose 
reception the beneficent Creator has connected 
satisfaction, the apparel fashioned to the comfort of 
the ever-varying seasons, remind many tender 
hearts of the children of poverty, quickening both 
liberality to them, and love to the Father of all. 
The history of despotic governments, of the hor- 
rors of war, and the miseries of ignorance and hea- 
thenism, should aid in impressing a sense of our own 
great indebtedness, and in shedding over the face 
and demeanour the clear sunshine of cheerful grati- 
tude. But, as it is impossible to recount those 
mercies w^hich are " new every morning and fresh 
every moment," our whole existence should be per 
vaded by the spirit Vv^hich moved the pious poet to 
exclaim— 



C H F E B F U L N E S S . I 81 

** Almighty Friend, henceforth to Thee, 
A hymn of praise my life shall be." 

The habit of discovering good quahties in others, 
is a source of diffusible happiness. Though a 
Knowledge of human nature teaches that the best 
characters have a mixture of infirmity ; it still ad- 
mits that in the worst, there are some redeeming 
virtues. The telescope that reveals the brightness 
of the most opaque and remote planets, is more 
valuable than the microscope that detects motes in 
the sunbeam, and deformed insects feeding even 
upon the rose's heart. A disposition to dwell on 
the bright side of character, is like gold to the pos 
sessor. One of the principal ingredients in the 
happiness of childhood, is freedom from suspicion, 
and kind and loving thoughts toward all. Why 
might not that sweet disposition be combined with 
a more extensive intercourse with mankind ? — A 
habit of searching out the faults of others, like that 
of complaining of the inconveniences of our lot, 
grows with indulgence, ^nd is calculated both to 
increase evil, and to perpetuate its remembrance. 

A tendency to slander, destroys innocent cheer- 
fulness, and marks even the countenance with 
malevolence. The satisfaction which it brings is 
morbid, and betokens internal disease. To imagine 
more evil than meets the eye, betrays affinity for 
it, and to delight to deepen that which forces itself 
on our observation, marks a fearful degree of moral 
disease, and contributes to disseminate it. But to 
'^ distil out that soul of goodness which is contained 



182 CHEERFULNESS 

in evil things," is a chymistry worthy of those 
guardian spirits who heighten the joy of heaven, 
when ^' one sinner repenteth." Strive, therefore, 
as a means of cheerful and happy thought, to pal- 
liate rather than to condemn frailty, and so to bring 
into prominence the good qualities of those with 
whom you associate, that the mind dwelling in an 
atmosphere of brightness, may shed on those 
around, a reflection of its own joy, a faint semblance 
of that beam, which the prophet bore on his face, 
when he descended from his mountain-converse 
with the All-Perfect. 

Cheerfulness is promoted by a consciousness of 
being usefully employed. Active industry is fa- 
vourable to health and elasticity of spirits. The 
assurance that our daily pursuits advance the com- 
fort or improvement of others, is a balsam to the 
heart. That our time, talents, and influence, are 
devoted to their highest and best ends, is an assu- 
rance of inestimable value. It would seem that 
those engaged in the difl*erent departments of edu- 
cation, should therefore evince a sustaining princi- 
ple of cheerfulness. To advance the intellectual 
and moral benefit of others, is a blessed mission, 
and should '^ wear its jewel" visibly. 

The more instructers of youth cultivate a digni- 
fied cheerfulness, the more they will extend and 
deepen their influence. It might seem that to teach 
is the natural province of our sex. And if every 
young lady, wherever she might be situated, should 
make it her object to impart to all those younger 



CHEERFULNESS. 183 

or less favoured than herself, who come in contact 
with her, some portion of the accomplishments, the 
knowledge, or the piety, that she possesses, the 
sweet consciousness of not living in vain, would 
cheer her meditations, and irradiate her counte- 
nance and manners with the charm of benevolence. 
Endeavour to preserve cheerfulness of deport 
ment, under the pressure of disappointment or 
calamity. " Keep aloof from sadness," says an 
Icelandick writer of the twelfth century, "for sad- 
ness is a sickness of the soul." That principle is 
weak at the root, which is unable to resist obsta- 
cles. The vessel is but ill-constructed that cannot 
retain its integrity against rough winds or an op 
posing tide. Life has many ills, but the mind that 
views every object in its most cheering aspect, and 
every doubtful dispensation as replete with latent 
good, bears within itself a powerful and perpetual 
antidote. The gloomy soul aggravates misfortune, 
while a cheerful smile often dispels those mists 
that portend a storm. Form a habit of being 
cheerful under adverse circumstances. " Our hap- 
piness,'" says a fine writer, " is a sacred deposite, 
for which we must give account." A serene and 
amiable temper is among its most efficient pre- 
servatives. Admiral Collingwood, in his letters to 
his daughters, says, " I never knew your mother to 
utter a harsh or hasty thing to any person in my 
life." Of Archbishop Leighton, it is related, by 
one qualified to judge, that " during a strict intima- 
cy of many years, he never saw him for one mo 



184 CHEERFULNESS, ^ 

ment in any other temper than that m which he 
would wish to hve and to die." Though some may, 
with more ease than others, attain equanimity oi 
character, yet the cheerfulness that surmounts care, 
disappointment and sorrow, must be the result ol 
cultivated principle, of persevering effort, and the 
solicited succour of the grace of God. 

A good conscience is essential to consistent 
cheerfulness. " Were thy conscience pure," says 
the excellent Thomas a Kempis, " thou wouldest 
be contented in every condition. Thou wouldest 
be undisturbed by the opinions and reports of men 
concerning thee ; — for their commendations can 
add nothing to thy goodness, nor their censures 
take away from it ; — what thou art^ thou art : — 
nor can the praise of the w^hole world make thee 
happier or greater in the sight of God. Thou wilt 
enjoy tranquillity, if thy heart condemn thee not. 
Therefore, do not hope to rejoice, but when thou 
hast done well." A decided preference of the right, 
though the wrong may be rendered most alluring, 
and the conviction of having intended to do well, 
are necessary to self-approval. Success, and the 
applause of others, may not always bear proportion 
to the motives that actuate us. We may be some- 
times blamed when our designs are pure, or 
praised when we are not conscious of deserving 
it. Such results must indeed often happen, since 
this is a state of probation and not of reward. The 
true record must be kept within. Its appeal is to 
a tribunal that cannot err. The w^aiting and trast- 



CHEERFULNESS. 185 

mg spirit, may surely be cheerful. Il is a weak 
faith, that cannot look above mistake and miscon- 
struction, up to the clear shining of the Sun oi 
righteousness. It is but a decrepit cheerfulness 
that can walk abroad, only when the breeze is soft, 
and the path verdant. 

We are instructed to believe, that praise is the 
spirit of heaven. Cheerfulness, and giving of 
thanks, ought therefore to be cultivated by all w^ho 
have a hope of dwelling there. If we were to take 
up our residence with distant friends, we would 
wish to acquire some knowledge of their tastes, 
that YJQ might so accommodate our own, as to be- 
come a congenial inmate. If we were to sojourn 
in a foreign country, we would not neglect the 
study of its language, or the means of intercourse 
with its inhabitants. If the spirit of a clime, where 
we hope to dwell eternally, is revealed to us, let 
us not be indifferent to its requisitions. Let us 
fashion the lineaments of our character, after that 
bright and glorious pattern — that if we are so 
happy as to obtain entrance therein, its blissful 
inhabitants may not be to us as strangers, nor their 
work a burden ; — but we be fitted by the serenity 
learned on earth, to become " fellow-citizens with 
the saints, and of the household of God." 

16* 



LETTER Xn. 



CONVERSATION. 



So great a part of our time is devoted to con- 
versation, and so much has it the power to influ- 
ence the social feehngs and relative duties, that it 
is important to consider how it may be rendered 
both agreeable and useful. In all countries where 
intelligence is prized, a talent for conversation 
ranks high among accomplishments. To clothe 
the thoughts in clear and elegant language, and to 
convey them impressively to the mind of another, 
is no common attainment. 

Conversation to be interesting, should be sus- 
tained with animation. Warmth of heart must 
put in motion the wheels of intellect. The finest 
sentiments lose their force, if uttered with lassi- 
tude and indifference. Still, the most fluent 
speakers are not always the most agreeable. 
Great rapidity of enunciation should be avoided. 
It perplexes minds of slow comprehension, and 
confuses those which are inured to habits of re- 
flection. It sometimes proceeds from great quick- 
ness of perception, and is sometimes an aff'ectation 
of spi ightliness, but will usually be found to pro- 
duce fatigue, rather than to give pleasure. 



CONVERSATION. 187 

A proneness to interrupt others, is still more 
offensive than excessive volubility. Scarcely any 
brilliance in conversation can atone for this. It is 
an infraction of the principle of mutual exchange, 
on which this department of social intercourse de- 
pends. The term itself conveys an idea, if not of 
equal rights, at least of some degree of reciprocity 
in the privilege of receiving and imparting thought. 
Even those who most admire the fluency of an 
exclusive speaker, will condemn the injustice of 
the monopoly. They will imagine that they them- 
selves might have uttered a few good things, had 
they been allowed an opportunity. Perhaps some 
appropriate remark arose to their lips, but the pro- 
per time for uttering it, was snatched away. It is 
possible that regret for one's ow^n lost sayings, 
may diminish the effect of even a flood of elo- 
quence. So that piqued self-love will be apt to 
overpower admiration, and the elegant and inde- 
fatigable talker be shunned, except by a few who 
are silent from dulness, or patient listeners from 
principle. The encounter of a number of these 
earnest and fierce speakers, the clamour, the tireless 
competition, the impossibility of rescuing thought 
from the confusion of tongues, the utter frustration 
of the legitimate design of discourse, to he under- 
stood, would be ludicrous, were it not painfully 
oppressive to the nerves. 

Fluency in conversation must not be assumed 
as a test of talent. Men of genius and wisdom 
have been often found deficient in its graces. 



1S8 CONVERSATION. 

Adam Smith ever retained in company the embar- 
rassed manners of a student. Neither Buffon or 
Rousseau carried their eloquence into society. 
The silence of the poet Chaucer was held more 
desirable than his speech. The conversation of 
Goldsmith did not evince the grace and tender- 
ness that characterize his compositions. Thorn 
son was diffident and often uninteresting. Dante 
A\as taciturn, and all the brilliance of Tasso, was 
m his pen. Descartes seemed formed for solitude. 
Cowley was a quiet observer, and the spirited 
Dryden acknowledged that his " conversation was 
slow and dull, and his humour reserved." Hogarth 
and Swift were absent-minded, and the studious 
Thomas Baker said that he was " fit for no com- 
munion, save with the dead." Our own Washing- 
ton, Hamilton and Franklin, were deficient in that 
fluency which often fascinates a promiscuous 
circle. 

The list might easily be enlarged, but enough 
instances have been adduced, to console those who 
happen not to excel in this accomplishment, and to 
assure them that if sometimes constrained to be 
silent, they are at least kept in countenance by a 
goodly company. 

As Pythagoras imposed on those who would be 
mitiated into his philosophy, a long term of silence, 
so they who would acquire the art of conversation, 
should first learn to listen. To do this with an 
appearance of unwearied attention, and as far as 
possible with an expression of interested feeling 



CONVERSA.TION. 189 

on the countenance, is a species of amiable polite- 
ness, to which all are susceptible. It is peculiarly 
soothing to men of eminent attainments, or refined 
sensibility, and is a kind of delicate deference, 
which the young are bound to pay to their supe- 
riors in age. 

Another mode of imparting pleasure in conver- 
sation, is to lead others to such subjects as are 
most congenial to their taste, or on which they 
possess the most extensive information. From 
this will arise a double benefit. They will be sat 
isfied, and you will reap the fruits of their know- 
ledge. This w^as one of the modifications of be- 
nevolence practised by the late Dr. Dwight, him- 
self one of the most accomplished and eloquent 
men in conversation, whom our country, or any 
other country, has ever produced. That you may 
observe this rule, with regularity, do not permit 
yourself to estimate too lightly the attainments of 
those, whom education has less favoured than your- 
self. Among them you will often discover strong 
common sense, an acquaintance with practical 
things, and a sound judgment of the " plain intent 
of life," in which minds of greater refinement may 
be deficient. This meek search after knowledge 
from the humblest sources, is graceful in the 
young ; and the virtuous, however laborious may 
be their lot, or obscure their station, are deserving 
of such respect, and made happier by it. 

The late Dr. Rush, was pronounced by a gen- 
tleman highly endued with cultivated taste, and 



190 CONVERSATION. 

knowledge of human nature, " one of the most 
interesting men in conversation, that our country 
has produced. In analyzing the secret of his 
powers, it seemed that his art of pleasing consist- 
ed in making others pleased with themselves. He 
never descended to flattery. His compliments 
came rather from an approving eye and manner, 
than from his lips. His ready tact seemed in- 
stinctively to discover, the subjects on which you 
were best qualified to converse. To these sub- 
jects, he would adroitly and pleasantly lead the 
way. Then, as if by magic, you would find your- 
self at home in his presence, moving freely, and 
with exhilarated spirits in your own native ele- 
ment ; and when you left him, you could not fail 
to add, to other valuable acquisitions made through 
him, an increased fund of self-respect." 

Those who would please others, should never 
talk for display. The vanity of shining in conver- 
sation, is usually subversive of its own desires. 
How^ever your qualifications may transcend those 
of the persons who surround you, it is both unwise 
and unkind to obtrude them upon their notice, or 
betray disregard of their opinion. It is never pol- 
itic to humble those whom you seek to conciliate. 
It is a good rule not to speak much of yourself, or 
your own concerns, unless in the presence of 
friends, who prompt these subjects, or whose ad- 
vice you are anxious to obtain. It was among the 
amiable traits in the character of Sir Walter Scott, 
never voluntarily to allude to those splendid pro- 



CONVERSATION. 19J 

ductions of his genius, which were winning the 
wonder and applause of every dime. There is a 
politeness, almost allied to piety, in putting out of 
view our own claims to distinction, and bringing 
forward the excellences of others. 

Perhaps, the great secret of pleasing in conver- 
sation, is to make others pleased with themselves 
Any superiority, therefore, which we may chance 
to possess, should be laid aside, as if entirely for 
gotten. '' I never allude to my own works," said 
Corneille, " but amuse my companions about such 
matters as they like to hear. My talent consists 
not in making them feel that I have any, but in 
showing them that they have." How much more 
amiable is such a course, than that perpetual 
effort to dazzle, which encumbers society with 
levity, weariness, and disappointed vanity. 

But in studying to render conversation agree 
able, let us not forget that it should have a higher 
object than merely the art of pleasing. It was a 
noble rule of the celebrated Cotton Mather, 
*' never to enter any company, where it was proper 
for him to speak, without endeavouring to be use- 
ful in it." Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, w^ho eminently 
possessed the talent of conversation, and so united 
it with an amiable disposition, that it was said of 
her, she was never known to have uttered an un- 
kind, or ill-natured remark, made it the means of 
moral improvement to others, by commending in 
their presence, some persons distinguished by the 
particular virtue, which she desired them to imi- 



192 CONVERSATION 

tate. Thus she often led to the formation of good 
habits, and by her eloquence, reformed and ele- 
vated the characters of those around her. 

Avoid exaggeration in discourse. Those of 
lively imaginations are very prone to this fault. 
When the addition of a few circumstances, or the 
colouring of a single speech, would so embellish a 
narrative, their veracity is not proof against the 
temptation. 

Spare to use the language of flattery. Truth 
bcems to abandon the guidance of those young 
persons, who indulge much in its dialect. Every 
habit of hyperbolical expression, impairs confi 
dence. Obtain an accurate knowledge of the mean- 
ing of words, and of the difi'erent shades of those 
reputed synonymous. Much carelessness, and su- 
perfluous verbiage in conversation, might be pre- 
vented by a habit of strict definition of terms, and 
a precise adaptation of them to the facts which 
are stated, or the sentiments which are conveyed. 
The study of etymology might not only be 
brought into daily practical use by ladies, but be 
rendered a moral benefit. Yet in these days of 
high intellectual cultivation, in which females so 
liberally partake, the sacrifice of veracity in com- 
mon discourse, cannot be resolved into ignorance 
of the import of language, so correctly as into the 
desire of shining, or making amusement at the ex- 
pense of higher things. " It is very difl^icult," 
savs the excellent Mrs. Hannah More, " for per- 
sons of great liveliness to restrain themselves 



CONVERSATION. 193 

within the sober hmits of strict veracity, either in 
their assertions or narrations, especially when a 
little undue indulgence of fancy is apt to secure 
for them the praise of genius and spirit : and this 
restraint is one of the earliest principles which 
should be worked into a youthful mind." Witii- 
out sincerity, the intercourse of the lips will be but 
" as a sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal," and 
dear, indeed, must be that reputation for wit, which 
is purchased by the forfeiture of integrity. 

You are doubtless aware that our sex have been 
accused of a tendency to remark with severity 
upon the foibles of character. It has been gravely 
asserted that we were prone to evil-speaking. Is 
it so ? Let us candidly canvass the point. We 
may have temptations to this vice, peculiar to our- 
selves. We have more leisure for conversation 
than men Our range of subjects is more limited. 
The multifarious pursuits of business and politics, 
or the labours of scientific and professional studies, 
engross their thoughts, and necessarily lead them 
to more elevated and expansive channels. Women, 
acting in a narrower sphere, examine with extreme 
ardour, whatever falls under their observation, or 
enters into competition with them. When em- 
ployments weary, or amusements fail, characte^^ is 
a favourite field in which to expatiate. By nature 
they are gifted with a facility for reading its 
idioms. But if they indulge themselves in search- 
ing out only its weaknesses — if ihey form a taste 
for hunting down its deformities, and feeding, like 

17 



194 C O N A' E R S A T I N . 

the hyena, upon its jfleshless, hfeless carcase, are 
they not in danger of perverting the tides of be^ 
nevolent feeling, and of tinging the fountains of the 
heart with bitterness ? 

It is very difficult to ascertain whether the faults 
of others are presented to us without exaggeration. 
So little do human beings understand the motives 
of others, that actions may be blamed by men, 
which the recording angel exults, as he writes in 
the pure record of Heaven. 

Yet, if we are sure that those whom we hear 
censured are quite as guilty as they are repre- 
sented, is not the call on us rather for pity than 
for punishment ? Is it not to be inferred that the 
community will take care to visit the error with 
its full penalty, and that it may be safe for us to 
withliold our smiting, when so many scourges are 
uplifted ? Perhaps, even the measure of Jewish 
infliction, "thirty stripes, save one^'' maybe trans- 
cended, if we add our stroke. 

Surely, no class of our fellow-creatures, are 
more in need of pity, than those who have fallen 
into error, and are suffering its consequences. 
" Consider," says the excellent Carohne Fry, "the 
dangers, the sorrows, that lie in the. path of all. to 
their eternal home — the secret pangs, the untold 
agonies, the hidden wrongs. Thus the heart will 
grow soft with pity towards our kind. How can 
I tell what that censured person suffers ? That 
fault will cost dear enough, without my aid. So, 
you will fear, by a harsh word to add to thai 



CONVERSATION. 195 

which is too much aheady, as you would shrink 
from putting your finger into a fresh wound." 

From the danger of evil-speaking, there is foi 
you, my dear young friends, many sources of pro- 
tection. Education has provided you with a shield 
against this danger. The wide circle of the 
sciences, the whole range of literature, the bound- 
less world of books, open for you sources of con- 
versation, as innumerable as they are sublime. 
Subjects to which your mothers were strangers, 
are as familiar to " your lips as household words." 
You have no need to dissect character. You have 
no excuse for confining your attention to the frail- 
ties of your associates. What is it to you who 
wears an ill-assorted riband, or a tasteless garment; 
or who takes the lead in fashion, to you, who can 
solve at ease, the most intricate problem of Euclid, 
and walk with Newton among the stars ? What 
a paucity of judgment, what a perversion of intel- 
lect does it discover, to cast away the treasures of 
education, and place yourself on a level with the 
neediest mind. It is like parting with your birth- 
right, and not receiving even the poor payment of 
a " mess of pottage." If there has ever been just 
cause for this serious charge of a love of calumny 
upon our whole sex, it behooves the young females 
of the present generation to arise and wipe it away. 
In those places, where danger ha's been discovered 
to exist, apply the remedy. Avoid as far as pos- 
sible, all personal conversation. But when charac- 
ter is necessarily the subject of discussion, show 



196 CONVERSATION. 

yourselves the gentle excusers of error, and the 
advocates of all who need defence. It was once 
my happiness to associate with Sonne young people, 
who were in love with goodness, and in fear lest 
the habit of evil-speaking might unawares gain 
victory over them. They said : " We will form 
ourselves into a society against detraction. If we 
asperse any person, or if we neglect to defend the 
absent when they are defamed, we will pay a fine, 
to be appropriated to the relief of the poor." Truly, 
the purse for the poor flourished, and so did the 
virtues of those lovely and kind-hearted beings. 
The mother of one of them inquired, for she had 
not heard of the existence of such a society, " What 
is the reason that C. never joins when any one is 
blamed, but tries so constantly to excuse all, or 
when that is impossible, says nothing ?" A sweet 
comment upon their institution. It so happened 
that it was organized on the shortest day of the 
year, and if its efl'ects on all its members were as 
happy, as on this individual, they will have cause 
to remember it with gratitude to the longest day 
of their lives. 

It is not proposed that you should surrender a 
correct judgment, or attempt to applaud the vicious. 
Yet do not testify too much complacency in the 
condemnation even of those who deserve it. You 
cannot compute the strength of their temptations, 
or be positive that you would have off'ered a firmer 
resistance. Be tender of the reputation of your 
companions. Do not suppose that by detracting 



CONVERSATION. 197 

from their merits, you establish your ov/n. Joir 
cheerfully in their praises, even should they be 
called forth by qualities or accomplishments iv. 
which you are deficient. Speak with severity ol 
none. The office of censor is hardly safe for those 
who are themselves " compassed about with in 
firmity." — " Slander," says the excellent Saurin, 
" is a vice which strikes a double blow, wounding 
both him who commits, and him against whom it 
is committed." Those who possess the deepest 
knowledge of human nature, are the least violent 
in blaming its frailties. Be assured that you tes- 
tify your discrimination more by discovering the 
good than the evil among your fellow-creatures, so 
imperfect are even the best, so much alloy mingles 
with earth's finest gold. 

We have now inquired, with regard to conversa 
tion in general, how it may be rendered agreeable, 
safe, and subservient to utihty. Before we dismiss 
the subject, let us turn our attention to that modri 
fication of it, wdiich regards the intercourse of 
young ladies, with those of their own age, among 
the other sex. This is a point of no minor im- 
portance. From your style of conversation and 
manners, they are accustomed to gather their most 
indelible impressions, not merely of talents, but of 
those secret springs which modify feeling, and 
character, and happiness. Their courtesy yields 
to you the choice of subjects, and induces a general 
acquiescence in your sentiments. But are you 
aware that all these circumstances are scrutinized 

17^ 



198 CONVERSATION. 

freely m your absence, and that while you are 
flattering yourself with having dexterously sus- 
tained your part, cool criticism may be resolving 
your wisdom into vanity, or associating your wit 
with ill-nature ? 

I would not seek to disguise the degree of in- 
fluence, wliich, in the radiant morning of your days, 
you possess over young men. It is exceedingly 
great. I beg you to consider it in its full import, 
in all its bearings, and to " use it like an angel." 

You have it in your power to give vigour to their 
pursuit of respectability, to fix their attention on 
useful knowdedge, to fortify their wavering opin- 
ions, and to quicken or retard their progress in the 
path of benevolence and piety. You have it also 
in your power to interrupt their habits of industry 
and application, to encourage foppishness in dress, 
to inspire contempt of a just economy and plain ex 
terior, and to lead them to cultivate levity of de- 
portment, or to seek for variety of amusements, at 
the expense of money, which perhaps they can ill 
afford to spend, and of time, w^hich it is madness 
to w^aste. How important, my dear young friends, 
that the influence thus intrusted to you, be ration 
ally, and kindly, and religiously used. 

In your conversation wdth young men, avoid 
frivolity. Do not, for the sake of being called so- 
ciable, utter sound without sense. There seems 
implanted in some minds a singular dread of si- 
lence. Nothing is in their opinion, so fearful as a 
pause. It must be broken, even if the result is to 



CONVERSATION. 199 

speak foolishness. Yet to the judicious, the pause 
would be less irksome than the folly that succeeds 
it. Neither reserve nor pedantry, in mixed society 
are desirable, but a preference of such subjects as 
do not discredit the understanding and taste of an 
educated young lady. Dress, and the various 
claims of the candidates for the palm of beauty 
and fashion, w^th the interminable gossip of re- 
puted courtships, or incipient coquetries, are but 
too prone to predominate. Perhaps you would 
scarcely imagine, that by indulging much in these 
topics, you are supposed to furnish a key to your 
own prevailing tastes. Still less would you be 
disposed to believe the freedom of remark to which 
levity of deportment exposes you, even among 
those young gentlemen who are most willing to 
promote it. This disposition to frivolity in con- 
versation, repeatedly occupied the elegant and re- 
proving pen of Addison. " If," said he, " we ob 
serve the conduct of the fair sex, we find that they 
choose rather to associate with persons who re- 
semble themselves in that light and volatile hu- 
mour which is natural to them, than with such as 
are qualified to moderate and counterbalance it. 
When, therefore, we see a fellow loud and talkative, 
full of insipid life and laughter, we may venture to 
pronounce him a female favourite." 

I trust, my young friends, that nothing in your 
deportment will ever authorize a conclusion like 
this. Yet, if a young man of good education, re- 
fined taste, and elevated morality, chooses in your 



200 CONVERSATION. 

company trifling subjects, or descends often to lev- 
ity, pause, and inquire of yourself vjJiy it is so ? — 
whether he supposes this deportment most con- 
genial to you, and what there is in your conduct 
which might warrant such an opinion. 

There were both good sense, and knowledge of 
human nature, in the maxims given by a German 
author to his daughter : — " Converse always with 
your female friends, as if a gentleman were of the 
party : and with young men, as if your female 
companions were present." Avoid the dangerous 
license of conversation, both in variety of subject, 
and freedom of remark. Extreme delicacy on 
these points is expected by correct judges, and 
should always characterize an educated young 
lady. 

I would not desire that conversation should be 
fettered by restraint, or paralyzed by heartless cer- 
emony. But I would have the dignity of the sex 
maintained by its fairest and most fascinating rep- 
resentatives. I grieve to see folly sanctioned by 
the lips of beauty. 

Conversation need not be divested of intelli- 
gence, by the vague fear of preciseness or ped- 
antry It ought to be a delightful and improving 
intercourse between intellectual and immortal be- 
ings. To attain excellence in it, an assemblage of 
qualifications is requisite ; disciplined intellect, to 
think clearly, and to clothe thought with propriety 
and elegance ; knowledge of human nature, to suit 
subject to character ; true politeness, to prevent 



CONVERSATION. 20 1 

giving pain ; a deep sense of morality, to preserve 
the dignity of speech, and a spirit of benevolence 
to neutralize its asperities and sanctify its powers. 

It requires good talents, a good education, and a 
good heart : the " charity that thinketh no evil," 
and the piety which breathes good will to man, 
because it is at peace with its Maker. No won- 
der that so few excel in what requires such rare 
combinations. Yet be not discouraged in your 
attempts to obtain so valuable an accomplishment, 
since it is the medium by which knowledge is 
communicated, affection enkindled, sorrow com- 
forted, error reclaimed, and piety incited to go on 
her way rejoicing. 

I beseech j^ou abuse it not. Every night, in the 
silence of your apartment, let the heart question 
the lips of their part in the day's doings. Recall 
the instances in which they have been trifling, 
profitless, or recreant to the law of kindness, and 
thus gather deeper contrition for the prayer with 
w^hich you resign yourself to sleep. Lest this 
work be done lighty or carelessly, endeavour to 
make it a faint emblem of that tribunal before 
which we must all stand at last ; and engrave in- 
delibly on your memory the solemn assurance that 
for " every idle icord, we must give account in the 
day of judgment. ^^ 



LETTER XIII. 
EVENING THOUGHTS. 

The opening of a day, naturally prompts to good 
resolutions, and its departure to serious meditation. 
Morning summons to action, evening invites to con- 
templation. If " day unto day uttereth speech," in- 
citing the thoughtful mind to social duty and inter- 
course, " night unto night showeth forth knowledge,'^ 
the deep and salutary knowledge of itself. The 
shades of twilight, as well as the darkness of sol- 
emn night, seem to have disposed even unlettered 
and pagan nations, to some degree of reflection. 
" When the glorious enlightener of the sky," said 
an American Indian, " goes underneath the globe, 
and the birds grow silent, it is my custom to settle 
myself, as if to take repose. But it is not to sleep ; 
for the things that are past, go by again, and some- 
times my spirit is troubled." 

Evening is a convenient period for reflection. The 
excitements of the day are past. The eagerness of 
its pursuits, the pressure of its employments, have an 
intermission. The mind, which may have been al- 
ternately too much elated or depressed by surround- 
ing objects, subsiding, views them in their more cor- 
rect proportions. 



EVENING THOUGHTS. 203 

The scenery of evening, disposes to quiet and ele- 
vated thought. Perhaps the mighty concave, robes 
itself in clouds. Perhaps the moon casts her silver 
light on hill, and vale, and stream ; giving promise, 
amid her beautiful regency, of a more glorious orb 
that shall soon revisit the firmament : or the stars, 
with their sparkling eyes, look forth, bearing wit- 
ness that God remembereth his great family, around 
whom he hath drawn the curtains of repose. Seem 
they not all to breathe harmoniously his assurance 
of love, " Seed-time and harvest, and summer and 
winter, and day and night, shall not cease ?" 

Come, then, dear young friends, ere the hour of 
sleep, let us, in the retirement of our chamber, sum- 
mon to our side the parted day. We would take 
leave of it tenderly, as of a friend who returns no 
more. Did it not bring us precious gifts ? opportu- 
nities of acquiring knowledge ? of doing good ? of 
seeking the happiness of others ? of increasing our 
own ? Were they lovingly received ? faithfully im- 
proved ? Then will there be a song of joy for us 
from the " Better Land." But if the record should 
be that of the slothful servant, still there is hope. 
Let our farewell kiss to the day, whose mantle al- 
ready fades into darkness, be a prayer of contrition, 
a sigh for pardon of Him, 

" Who, from his height of glory, hears, 
Through seraphs' songs, the sound of tears." 

At the passing away of such a period of our life, 
it is a useful practice to search if any important 
event has designated it, in the old time that was be- 



204 EVENIHG THOUGHTS. 

fore us. It may have been the anniversary of some 
historical era; of the birth or death of some illustri- 
ous individual ; whose memorials it is profitable to 
restore and contemplate. On the domestic annal it 
may have left some bright trace or sorrowing shad- 
ow, over which it is both fitting and salutary to 
muse. The habit of clothing each recurring day in 
the lineaments that appertained to its predecessors 
in past ages, gives to it some portion of the dignity 
and reverence w^hich we accord to antiquity. At 
least, it imparts to it more of identity, of individual- 
ity, as if we dealt with one who would give account 
of us at last. Whatever adds thus to the importance 
of our fleeting days, would seem to be an assistance 
in marking them with wisdom. 

It has been found a useful habit to arrange chron- 
ologically, in a manuscript book, a list of events 
which have distinguished every day in the year. It 
may be readily filled from a course of history, from 
biographical reading, and from the heart's treasured 
legends of friendship and domestic love. By look- 
ing at it every morning, subjects for profitable con- 
versation may be suggested; and their recapitula- 
tion at evening, will often supply matter for medita- 
tion and improvement. 

If we perceive that the day which has just pass- 
ed peacefully over our heads, was the anniversary of 
some sanguinary battle, or of the crisis of some rev- 
olution which convulsed and agonized a whole peo- 
ple, does it not enkindle a livelier gratitude that our 
native land is at rest ? and we under the protection 



EVENING THOUGHTS. 205 

of laws that give confidence to the weak, and refuge 
to the homeless ? 

At this very hour of serene reflection, many hearts 
are tortured with anxiety for the fate of absent dear 
ones, musing, perhaps, on their exposure in fields of 
blood, or following in fancy their adventurous course 
upon the deep, and shuddering at the tempest, the 
iceberg, or the shipwreck. Many are suffering the 
pangs of sickness, or bending heart-broken over the 
couch of the dying. And rises there no quickened 
thrill of praise for the health and safety of those 
whom we love ? 

Souls are at this moment going forth from their 
house of clay. Some are rent aw^ay, reluctant, un- 
prepared, terror-stricken. Do we daily strive that 
our own may be fitted for their returnless voyage to 
eternity ? Do we nightly render thanks to Him, who, 
by lengthening out our period of probation, gracious-* 
ly gives us opportunity to repent of what is amiss, to 
repair what has been omitted, and to take stronger 
hold of the only anchor that is sure and steadfast ? 

Few of us, while in health and happiness, are in 
a proper degree grateful for the refreshment of sleep. 
As long as the ministrations of that " chief nurturer 
at life's feast" are constant, we neglect to appreciate 
them. Perhaps we never learn their value, till sick- 
ness teaches us to mourn with the afflicted man, 
" Thou boldest mine eyes waking : I am so troubled 
that I cannot speak." 

How sweet, yet mysterious, is that balmy power, 
which, distilling on the closing eyelids, sooths the 



206 EVENING THOUGHTS. 

weary multitude from their pain, and cheats the 
worldly-minded of their " carking care," and divides 
the vicious, for a while, from their evil practices, and 
renews the Christian to "run his way rejoicing." 
The sad of heart lays down his burden, and an act 
of oblivion passes over all his sorrows. The travel- 
ler ceases to count the leagues that divide him from 
home, and the prisoner to measure by slow paces 
the walls of his dungeon. The galley-slave bows 
his head upon his oar, and is as great as a king. 
The seaboy forgets alike the storm that rocks the 
mast, and the pleasant cottage which he too rashly 
left. The heart-sick voyager, the tear still upon his 
cheek, slumbers in calm forgetfulness, notwithstand- 
ing 

*'The visitation of the winds, 
That take the ruffian-billows by the top, 
^ Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them, 

With deafening clamours, in the slippery shrouds." 

The wearied schoolboy forgets his task, and the la- 
bourer finds a respite for all his toil. Perhaps, in 
some curtained chamber, 

*' The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, 
Whom, snoring, she disturbs." 

The child^ who in the passing day took its first 
little lesson of sorrow, sobs slightly in its broken 
dream, or, turning upon its pillow, seeks pleasanter 
visions. The cradled infant wears a smile, as if it 
heard the whisper of angels. 

While, through the intermitted action of the ani- 
mal senses, the blessed refreshment of slumber is en- 
joyed, organic life continues its functions, and some- 



EVENING THOUGHTS. 207 

times imagination, taking flight in dreams, exercises 
a magician's power. She mounts the clifF, or hangs 
over the abyss, or poises her pinion on the storm- 
cloud, or snatches the drapery of the rainbow, of 
rides careering on the unbridled and bristhng comet. 
She invites memory to join her excursions, dragging 
her onward like a half-wakened, reluctant compan- 
ion. Then distant friends are brought near ; the de- 
parted return from the dead ; faded scenes of early 
days are retouched ; and buried feelings kindle anew 
in the heart. 

Some count it trifling and full of folly to speak of 
dreams. But, because any subject has been abused 
by superstition and ignorance, is it never to be ap- 
proached with clear and rational thought ? Dreams 
occupy a formidable portion of the span of human 
life. They are sources, for the time, of pleasure or 
of pain, and have power in some measure to cast 
their shadows over our waking moments. Our feel- 
ings throughout the day, may partake of their col- 
ouring. We rise from frightful visions, exhausted 
as by positive labour or suffering. Is there any re- 
gimen which will modify their nature, or give them 
the aspect of tranquillity and happiness ? 

It is surely of some consequence whether w^e are 
to spend a third part of our lives in the midst of de- 
lightful imagery, or of fancied terrors ; to be borne 
on airy wings over varied regions, rejoicing in their 
beauty, and holding converse w^ith their lovely and 
beloved inhabitants, or to shiver among nameless 



208 EVENING THOUGHTS. 

dangers, harassed by frightful spectres, and startled 
by fiery clouds above, and fathomless gulfs below. 

If, instead of considering dreams merely as idle 
vagaries of the brain, we accorded to them some de- 
gree of respect, I think they would become our 
friends. I am sure that they have power to mitigate 
the sorrows of separation from those most dear, by 
surrounding us nightly \vith their blessed company, 
and so bringing to us their smile, their voice, though 
the ocean may roll between, that we seem almost to 
hold existence in two hemispheres. I think 1 hear 
you asking, my dear young friends, if there is really 
any way of procuring such agreeable ministrations, 
or of inviting pleasant trains of thought during the 
hours of sleep. People wiser than myself, have as- 
serted that there is, and I take pleasure in adding 
some ancient prescriptions, which are recommended 
as having a tendency to promote the desired effect. 

1. Preserve equanimity of temper: admit during 
the day no angry, unkind, or vindictive feeling. Let 
no violent emotion quicken or disturb the current of 
blood through the heart. A regular pulse, and a 
fresh, serene flow" of spirits, are favourable both to 
delightful visions and to longevity. 

2. Avoid all compression in dress. Bind no fetter 
upon the lungs, or the heart, or the spine, while 
they discharge the daily functions allotted them by 
the wise Creator, The quietude of sleep, and of 
course, the character of dreams, are peculiarly modi- 
fied by this precept. 

3 Be temperate in all things. Permit nothing to 



EVENING THOUGHT a. 209 

pass into your stomach which is calculated to disor- 
der it, either in the form of high-seasoned meats^ 
rich sauces, unripe fruits, or stimulating liquids. 
Even of plain and proper food do not take an undue 
quantity, but desist before the appetite is fully satia- 
ted. Judicious physicians direct, that nothing should 
be taken between the regular repasts. At all events, 
remember that the stomach is the keystone of the 
frame, and will not long sustain abuse with impunity, 

4. Have the atmosphere of your sleeping-room 
well ventilated, and perform, when possible, an ab- 
lution before retiring, that the pores of the skin 
may be unchecked in their important office during 
sleep. Though the father of poets said that " dreams 
were from the gods," yet we shall still find them in 
their nature subject to the circumstances that affect 
the body, as all who have had experience of such 
visions as are connected with fevers, confined air, ob- 
structed circulation, or even a constrained position^, 
can testify. 

5. Be kind, affectionate, and benevolent, to those 
with whom you associate. Do all the good in your 
power, and promote the happiness of those whom 
you meet, by a kind word or a smile, if you can do 
no more. Preserve cheerfulness of spirits, voicCj, 
and manner ; keep a " conscience void of offence to- 
wards God and man." The happiness of dreams 
will be a part of your rew^ard. 

6. If aught evil has been harboured in your bosom 
throughout the day, cast it forth, ere you sleep, by 
penitence and prayer. Lay your head on your 

18* 



210 EVENING THOUGHTS. 

low at peace with all the world. Close your eyes 
with a smile on your countenance, and resign your- 
self to the spirit of sweet dreams, and to the minis- 
try of angels. 

Do not think lightly of these rules, my dear young 
friends, though they may seem antiquated or even 
visionary. Test them for one year, before you decide 
against them. Then, if you should find them to fail 
in producing such dreams as you desire, you will be 
convinced that they help to confer the more durable 
treasure of a good life. 

One more thought about dreams. Do they not 
help to prove the soul's immortality ? Its clay com- 
panion is weary, and lies down to rest. But, wdth a 
tireless strength, it wakes, it wanders, it expatiates, 
it soars. It gathers new proof that it is to live for- 
ever. 

Thus sleep, styled by the philosophic heathen " the 
brother of death," and which claims so formidable 
a portion of this brief existence, does not deprive us 
of the properties of a sentient being. Still w^e should 
not resign ourselves to its sway — robed as it is in 
mystery, and reducing us apparently to an infantine 
helplessness — without girding on, prayerfully, our 
Christian armour. That action of the mind by which 
w^e so recall the past as to make the future wiser, 
proves both its heaven-born origin and its ripened 
strength. "Beasts and young babes," said Aris- 
totle, " recognise^ man alone recollectsJ^ Those ef- 
forts of memory which diversify our dreams, are 
broken gleamings of the dignity of our intellectual 



EVENING THOUGHTS. 211 

nature. An ancient historian speaks of a race of 
savages, who scarcely came within the scale of hu- 
manity, "being reported as both nameless, and 
dreamless." 

Our latest evening thoughts should be of the re- 
cently-departed hours, and of Him who gave them. 
An ingenious writer has said that " the future and the 
past both veil themselves to us ; but the former w^ears 
the veil of the bride, the latter that of the widow." 
Perhaps, at some of our periods of self-examination, 
the summoned day may come back to us as a veiled 
mourner. Yet she can be made to smile by the 
memory of a good deed ; of a simple word spoken 
in kindness ; of a cup of cold water given in the Sa- 
viour's name. Let us carefully amass these gifts 
while we are in her company, that we may have 
them to put in her hand at parting, before she whis- 
pers to the recording seraph. 

Fidelity in these evening duties would sensibly 
advance the growth of piety. 

*' At such lone hours, the awful Power divine, 
Who hath his dwelling in the heart of man. 
Life of his soul, his monitor, and judge. 
Moves him with silent impulse." 

" Silence and Darkness, solemn sisters, twins," 
lead us to sit, like Mary, at the feet of Jesus, and to 
hear his Word. They draw a curtain over the 
" things that are seen," the temporary, fading, dying 
objects of our pursuit. They point upward to 
" things not seen," to the sublime inheritance of the 
soul. 

Sweet friends, let every evening, by its hallowed 



212 EVENING THOUGHTS, 

meditations, familiarize us with that clime towards 
which, if we are true Christians, it has one step ad- 
vanced us. May w^e so take leave of it, that if an- 
other morning daw^ns for us on earth, it shall come 
as an approving friend. May we so spend each re- 
turning, day as at last to become habitants of that 
blessed region, where there " is no more night»'^ 



LETTER XIV. 
SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 

How much is it the custom to assert that women 
are superficial in intellectual attainment. And how 
often they are so. Yet the reason is plain ; and, if 
excuse were the object in view, it might not be dif- 
ficult to find it. Their sphere of education has been 
long enlarging itself, without extending the period 
allotted to traverse it. Space and time have borne 
no proportion to each other ; and it must require a 
commanding genius, or a perseverance not often pos- 
sessed, to reconcile this discrepance. Hence they 
have been compelled to skim, with an airy flight, 
over broad fields which could be tilled and harvest- 
ed, only by laborious thought or severe study. 

Yet are our sex alone superficial ? or has the age 
in which we live some inherent tendencies to produce 
that eflfect upon all ? Does early discipline enforce 
that fixedness of attention which was formerly held 
essential to profound learning ? Is not the unfolding 
mind, especially in our large cities, made desultory 
by the variety of objects presented to its view ? or 
slothfully lulled by the ease and luxury of fashiona- 
ble life, until its vigour is enervated ? Hear we of 
any Daniel, who, for the sake of w^isdora, declines the 



214 SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 

dainties of a princely table, and chooses pulse and 
water ? May our own times expect to produce a 
Salraasius, who at the age of fourteen published a 
work in Latin, with critical annotations ? or a Theo- 
phrastus, who at ninety-nine wrote delineations of 
human nature with the fervent spirit of youth ? 

It is but too common to demand of those who as- 
pire to intellectual eminence, a conformity to customs 
which preclude the possibility of such distinction. 
We require them to sacrifice their hours of study to 
the interruptions of calling and visiting ; to acquaint 
themselves with the etiquette of fashionable and cer- 
emonious society ; to repress the remark which re- 
veals profound thought, and acquire the accomplish- 
ment of uttering trifling things elegantly. The day 
is past when Demosthenes might retire to. his soli- 
tude with a head half shaven, and escape censure ; 
or Diogenes take refuge in his tub, and be applaud- 
ed for wisdom. 

The multitude of miscellaneous works, that prom- 
inent feature of the present age, unbends the pow- 
er of mental application, and confuses consecutive 
trains of thought. A rapid mode of reading is thus 
induced, which releases the retentive powders from 
their office until they grow languid and inert. The 
ancients, with their few books, like men of small 
estate, cultivated their domain carefully, and left 
wealth to others. The moderns, like settlers on our 
broad Western lands, buy a province, and die ere 
its forests are felled. When we read merely the 
titles of books that multiply around the lighter de- 



SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 215 

partments of literature, it would seem that our three- 
score and ten years, frittered away as they are among 
other objects, would scarcely suffice for a cursory and 
decimated perusal. 

Not merely the influence of established customs, 
but the actual state of the sciences, concur to render 
profound learning a rare acquisition. What vast ac- 
cessions have been made to their boundaries, within 
the memory of the present generation. And he who 
would grasp their whole circle, how far may he hope 
to travel before the little hourglass of life is empti- 
ed ? How have the limits of History been extended 
since the time of Herodotus ; of Geography since the 
dim outline of Strabo ; of Natural Philosophy since 
the days of Bacon. The mutability of those sciences 
w^hich depend on experiment, keeps the mind of their 
votaries on the stretch, like Columbus w^ith his spy- 
glass, amid the surges of an untried ocean. 

Others have a more permanent basis, and seem to 
offer the student a firmer foothold. Political Econo- 
my takes note of man, as of a merchant, of the amount 
of his capital, and his facilities for transmuting his 
capacities into gold. Mathematics views him, by his 
faculties of computation, and admeasurement. Law 
takes cognizance of him, as capable of " impeding 
or being impeded." Ethics and Theology invite to 
their magnificent thresholds by peculiar allurements^ 
the first laying its foundations in the indestructible 
mind, whose elements are unaltered by the lapse of 
ages ; and the other borrowing stabihty and sublim- 
ity from Him " with whom is neither variableness, 



216 SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 

nor shadow of turning." He who dives deeply into 
the knowledge of himself and of Deity, has not the 
mortification to find the treasure that he amasses, the 
continual sport of the passing wave. In Intellectual 
Philosophy we still look back to the Stagyrite, of 
whom it has been well said that he " surpassed all 
men in acute distinctions, in subtle argument, in se- 
vere method ; in the power of analyzing what is 
most compounded ; of reducing to simple principles 
the most various and unlike appearances;" but in 
Theology, the babe and the sage of hoary hairs are 
alike learners, from one Book, of that love to God 
and man, on which rest " both the law and the 
prophets." 

To those obstacles to profound erudition which 
grow out of the habits of modern times, the vast ex- 
tent of ground occupied by the sciences, and the un- 
settled and advancing character of some of them : 
we add another, peculiarly obvious in our own coun- 
try, the universal strife and labour after riches. 
Though the desire of wealth may be inherent in hu- 
man nature, yet the scope allowed for its exercise in 
our republic is unusually broad. No ancient aris- 
tocracy, by its time-cemented privileges, distances 
the untitled competitor; but the son of the day-labour- 
er, in his fevered imagination, may clutch a purse 
as long as the heir of thousands. The false senti- 
ment that it is necessary to be rich, in order to be 
respectable, inwrought with the elements of mind, 
leads the man of genius to jostle in the thorough- 
fare with the crowds who but imperfectly compre- 



SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 817 

hend him, and by whom he will be sure, in such a 
race, to be surpassed. In the realm of learning it 
produces the same effect which the expectation of 
mines of the precious metals produced on the colony 
at Jamestown, w'here, in the words of its quaint his- 
torian, all other employments were abandoned for the 
sake of a vain hope, " to dig gold, refine gold, wash 
gold, and load gold." Could the man who covets 
learning, make a sacrifice of his desire to die rich, 
what lofty heights might he attain, among what se- 
rene contemplations and elevated pleasures might 
he revel. 

*' But these he must renounce, if lust of wealth 
E'er win its way to his corrupted heart ; 
For ah ! it poisons like a scorpion's dart, 
Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme. 
The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart, 
The troublous day, and long, distressful dream : 
Return, my roving mind, pursue thy purposed theme." 

Yet, if the tendencies of the present age are rathei 
to diiaw men from the heights of contemplative phi- 
losophy, or the depths of scientific research, they re- 
veal here and there a salient point, decidedly favour- 
able to the intellectual welfare of our own sex. 
Among these, is the cordiality w^ith which they are 
welcomed to pursuits from which they W' ere formerly 
excluded. Man, among his recent discoveries, has 
made one to which the keen eye of all antiquity was 
blind : that by educating his weaker companion he 
doubles his own strength. Knowledge was long 
since pronounced to be power, but it remained lock- 
ed up in hieroglyphics from one half the human 

19 



218 SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 

race. Had there been no monopoly on the part of the 
strongersex, when "learning cowled her head/' and 
was cloistered with monks ; no mistake when, in the 
madness of chivalry, they deified one moment what 
they cast away the next ; no jealousy of the feeble, 
yet faithful sentinel at their hearth-stone — with what 
strides might civilization and refinement have ad- 
vanced. From time immemorial, man has not feared 
to intrust power to his alUes, or to give honour to 
his friends; but with her who dwelt nearer to his 
heart than friend or ally, he hesitated to share the 
rich fruits of knowledge. He divided himself, and 
walked on alone, in those paths where he might have 
shared, if not vigorous aid, at least sweet compan- 
ionship. 

The present age — though not absolutely the dis- 
coverer of that gain which might arise from educa- 
ting her who is in one form or another to educate all 
mankind — has exerted itself beyond its predecessors 
to atone for long neglect. It has announced that he 
who obstructs in woman the attainment of fitting 
knowledge, is an enemy, not to her alone, but to him- 
self. It has been asserted that the guardianship of 
domestic comfort, the nurture of the unfolding mind, 
the regency over home's hallowed sanctuary, can- 
not be safely committed to a soul darkened with ig- 
norance. Let it not decline in its labours, until it 
has convinced the young females of our country, that 
in each of these departments she will need the sus- 
taining power of a love and respect, which can scarce- 
ly be steadily accorded unless they make themselves 



SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 219 

intellectually worthy of such distinction. Had this 
been sooner done, the reproach of being superficial 
would not have rested so heavily upon woman. She 
would not have thus long been deficient in a thor- 
ough erudition, had not man willed her to be so. 
Why, in Greece, where the beauties of her external 
form were arrested in marble by a chisel that laid 
claim to immortality, was she in reality a cipher, a 
solecism ? Because the greatest philosophers deign- 
ed not to awaken her to intellectual life ; because 
the most accomplished historian said it was sufficient 
for her " to sit at home and to spin wool.'^ Why, 
in the days of chivalry, she was content with an idle 
and inflated worship, they can best say who offered 
it. Five centuries since, a Duke of Bourbon said, 
but no voice responded to him, " It is a disgrace to 
speak evil of that sex which cannot revenge itself: 
and after all, from women, next to God, arises a 
great part of the honour that there is in this world." 
The man who voluntarily throws off long- estab- 
lished prejudices, and encourages the mental prog- 
ress of his weaker companion, deserves gratitude 
both from the community and from future genera- 
tions. Pliny spoke his own praise, though he sup- 
posed himself to be praising only his wife Calphur- 
nia, when he said, " to her other good qualities, she 
unites a taste for literature, inspired by her tender- 
ness for me." Those conjugal attachments, where 
intellectual improvement is made a mutual object, 
have been observed to contain elements of peculiar 
tenderness and constancy. The philanthropist who 



220 SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 

promotes female culture on a thorough and exten- 
sive scale — that culture which combines the love and 
practice of womanly duties, with the knowledge 
which elevates and makes them graceful — will confer 
a benefit on posterity w^hich shall endure, when the 
eloquence of Peter the Hermit, and the exploits of 
Coeur de Lion, or the Saladin, shall pall on memory 
like a worn-out tale. I would say to you, my young 
friends, be grateful for the rich gift which is put into 
your hands, and zealous to improve it to the utmost. 
Give diligence not to defraud that sex, through whose 
generosity you are made participants in the height- 
ened blessings of education, by allowing them to suf- 
fer in their domestic comforts. This result has been 
sometimes predicated. Prove that the apprehension 
was a mistaken one. Do not defraud your benefac- 
tors, but " let them receive their own w'ith usury." 
Neither defraud yourselves, by being contented w^ith 
the semblance of knowledge, and becoming a sound 
without a substance. If the most extensive research- 
es into the realm of science cannot be rationally ex- 
pected from you, still count it indispensable that such 
advances as you do make, be marked by persevering 
study and thorough comprehension. Keep for your 
constant guide the homely rule, that " whatever is 
worth doing, is worth doing w^ell." A good found- 
ation, at least, in the literature of your own language, 
and an intimate acquaintance with its best authors, 
are necessary to prepare you for intercourse with the 
intellectual and refined. Conversation drawn from 
such sources, will guard your fireside from the gossip 



SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 221 

of frivolity and scandal, and enable you to make it 
a temple of wisdom, and of such pleasures as befit 
the heirs of immortality. 

Whatever may be your occupation, devote some 
portion of each day to an attentive and consecutive 
perusal, of the standard authors, the historians and 
poets, the essayists and divines. Do not consider the 
more ancient poets as of slight importance, in a course 
of reading which consults improvement. The spirit 
of the age is, indeed, rather scientific and accumu- 
lating, than poetical. Yet, as Coleridge has well 
said, " Poetry, that of the loftiest, and seemingly 
that of the wildest kind, hath a logic of its own as 
severe as that of the sciences, and even more diffi- 
cult, because more subtle, more complex, more de- 
pendant on fugitive causes." According to Words- 
worth, who must be admitted as a judge, " It is the 
breath and finer spirit of all knowledge ; the impas- 
sioned expression which is in the countenance of all 
science." 

You are doubtless ready to pronounce a w^ell-dis- 
ciplined literary taste, as worth the labour of acqui- 
sition. Those who possess it have said that it reveals 
a self-sustaining power, when the trappings of life 
fall oflT, and its tinsel is tarnished. Our sex, in its 
radical structure, as well as by the usages of so- 
ciety, must be far more dependant than the other. 
Our happiness rests on a few props formed out of 
the affections. If they fail us — and they may — we 
cannot turn to the world and find consolation. Even 
were we permitted to be successful aspirants for its 

19* 



222 SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 

fame and honour, they would be no substitutes when 
the heart's sanctuary was laid waste. As well might 
the houseless wanderer, shrinking from the tempest, 
sooth himself with the imaginary music of the 
spheres. One of the sweetest poets, in delineating 
how valueless would be the proudest trophies of am- 
bition without the sympathies of the heart, has truly 
uttered the voice of her whole sex : 

*' But ah ! let mine, a woman's breast, 
By words of home-born love be bless'd." 

A well-regulated mind, full of rich resource, is a 
fortress of no ordinary strength. Among these is 
that fellowship with great minds of every age, which 
has power to make the solitary study a peopled land 
of choice spirits. We share a satisfaction almost 
like personal intercourse, with those mighty minds 
which the world has worshipped. " Literary char- 
acters," says De la Mothe, " are contemporaries of 
all ages, and citizens of every clime." Even the 
page that has silently chronicled our thoughts, be- 
comes to us as a sister. " I part with manuscripts 
as with dear friends, who have cheered me in hours 
of sadness," said the sensitive Cowper. 

The power of calling forth friends from buried 
ages and from distant realms, will naturally be pri- 
zed by the sex so prone to friendship, and whose 
life is in the affections. They are also incited to cast 
off* the odium of being superficial students, by the 
hope of doing good. Who can estimate the amount 
of good which may be done in a country like ours, by 
educated women ? Men may have more knowledge, 



SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS. 223 

yet influence others less. By the nature of their pur- 
suits, they cannot often pause to scatter its seeds by 
the wayside. Borne on the current of a restless and 
excitable age, multitudes of them struggle for wealth 
or honour, as the swimmer breasts the wave ; they 
rise for a moment on the crested billow, or sink be- 
neath it, and their wisdom perishes with them. But 
the daughter or sister in the quietness of the parent- 
al home, the faithful teacher in the village school- 
house, the mother in her secluded nursery, are they 
not all forming others after their own model ? — wri- 
ting deathless words upon that which is never to 
die? 

Man may have more knowledge, and yet hoard 
it up in his cabinet, or imbody it in expensive tomes, 
or confine it to the professions through which he re- 
ceives sustenance, or attains distinction. He lifts 
himself up hke a mountain in its majesty ; like the 
sombre forest, at once overshadowing and awing the 
traveller. But woman, like earth, the sweet moth- 
er, gives freely what has been intrusted to her ; the 
corn ripening for the harvest, the flower blushing in 
the sunbeam, the rich grass which covers the dark 
brown mould with unconscious beauty. 

My dear young friends, be studious to prepare 
yourselves for every duty that may devolve upon 
you in this age of high intelligence. If it has been 
justly said of any of our sex that they were superfi- 
cial, let it not be so said of you. Be grateful to 
those who have thrown open to you the doors of the 
temple of knowledge, and be just to yourselves. Do 



224 SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS, 

all the good in your power, with whatever mental 
wealth you have acquired, for " the time is short." 
In the strong language of a great moralist, " The 
certainty that life cannot be long, and the probabil- 
ity that it will be much shorter than nature allows, 
ought to awaken every one to the prosecution of 
whatever it is desirable to perform. It is true that 
no diligence can ensure success ; death may inter- 
rupt the swiftest career ; but whoever is cut off in 
the midst of persevering improvement, has at least 
the honour of falling in the ranks, and has fought 
the battle, though he missed the victory." 



LETTER XV. 



BENEVOLENCE. 



Permit me to press upon your attention a sci- 
ence at once simple and sublime ; of easy attain- 
ment, yet inexhaustible in its resources, and in its 
results boundless as Eternity. Some sciences 
require superior intellect, and severe study, yet to 
their adepts bring little, save pride and ostentation. 
But in this, the humblest and the youngest may 
Decome students, and find blessed fruits springing 
up, and ripening in their own bosoms. It is doubt- 
less evident to you, that I speak of the science of 
doing good. Yet I would not confine the term to 
its common acceptation of alms-giving. This is 
but a single branch of the science, though an im- 
portant one. A more extensive and correct ex- 
planation is, to strive to increase the happiness, 
and diminish the amount of misery, among our fel- 
low-creatures, by every means in our power. This 
is a powerful antidote to selfishness, that baneful 
and adhesive disease of our corrupt nature, or to 
borrow the forcible words of Pascal, that " bias 
towards ourselves, which is the spring of all dis- 
order." Benevolence multiplies our sources of 
pleasure, for in the happiness of all whom w^ 



226 BENEVOLENCE. 

bless, we are blessed also. It elevates our enjoy- 
ments, by calling into exercise generous motives, 
and disinterested affections. 

Lord Bacon, that star of the first magnitude, 
among the constellations of mind, says, that he 
early " took all knowledge to be his province." 
Will you not take all goodness to be your prov- 
ince ? It is the wiser choice, for " knowledge 
puffeth up, but charity edifieth." Knowledge must 
" perish in the using," but goodness, like its Author, 
is eternal. 

Dear young friend, whose eye, undimmed by 
the sorrows of time, is now resting upon this page, 
suffer me, from the experience of an older and 
earth-worn traveller, to urge you to hind yourself 
an apprentice to the trade of doing good. He 
will be your Master, whose ** mercies are new 
every morning, and fresh every moment." He 
will give you a tender and sustaining example, 
who came to " seek and to save that which was 
lost." They, too, will be your teachers, those 
bright-winged ministering spirits, who hold gentle 
guardianship over us, their weaker brethren, lest 
we ** dash our foot against a stone," whose harps 
are tremulous with joy when one sinner repenteth. 
The wise and good of all realms and nations, those 
who have gone to rest, and those who still labour, 
you may count as your companions, a vast and 
glorious assembly. 

Resolve, therefore, this day, that you will not 
live exclusively for your own gratification, but that 



BENEVOLENCE. 227 

the good of others, shall be an incentive to your 
studies, your exertions, your prayers. If you will 
be persuaded thus to enroll yoiurselves among the 
students of Heaven, consider attentively your own 
powers, situation, and opportunities of doing good. 

Take a view of the ground which you occupy. 
Look around on every member of your own fami- 
ly. Contemplate all among whom you reside, 
and with whom you particularly associate. Are 
any ignorant, whom you might instruct ; unhappy, 
whom you might console ; in error, whom you 
might reclaim ? Make acquaintance with the 
poor. See with your ow^n eyes, the deficiency of 
their accommodations, and the nature of their sor- 
rows. The directions given by the father of Louis 
XVL to the tutor of his children, reflect more hon- 
our upon him than the circumstance of his royal 
birth : " Take them to the cottages of the peas- 
antry. I will have them see and taste the black 
bread which they eat. I insist on their handling 
the straw that serves the poorest for a bed. Let 
them weep ; learn them to weep ; for the prince 
who has never shed tears for the woes of others, 
can never make a good king." 

From among the many charitable societies of 
the day, select one, whose design is most con- 
genial to your feelings, or most approved by your 
older friends. Enroll yourself among its mem- 
bers, and study its management, and become fa- 
miliar with the detail of its operations. Thus you 
will preserve your own interest from languishing, 



228 BENEVOLENeE. 

and gather instruction from the associated wisdom 
of others. Whatever income you may possess, or 
whatever stipend is allowed you, set apart one 
tenth for charitable purposes. This, surely, will 
not seem to you a large proportion. Some be- 
nevolent persons have devoted a fifth of their pos- 
sessions to the poor. The pious Countess of 
Warwick could not be satisfied without distribu- 
ting one third of her large income to the wants of 
the distressed. To a young lady, a sweet disciple 
in the school of charity, and now, I trust, a parti- 
cipant in the bliss of angels, who inquired what 
proportion of her fortmie she should devote to sa- 
cred uses, I suggested a tenth. But she replied, 
" I like better the rule of the publican, * Lord, tlie 
half of my goods, I give unto the poor.' " The late 
excellent Mrs. Isabella Graham was in the habit 
of devoting a tenth part of her possessions to char- 
itable uses, under every reverse of fortune. On 
one occasion, after the sale of some property, 
£1000 w^as brought her. So large a sum was 
new to her, and fearing the selfishness which is 
said to accompany riches, she exclaimed : " Quick I 
quick ! let me appropriate my tenth, before my 
heart grows hard." 

For the division of a tenth of our substance, there 
seems a kind of warrant in Scripture, by the tithe 
which the Almighty commanded his chosen people 
to render. " God," says an ancient writer, " de- 
mamdeth the seventh part of our time, and the 
tenth of our fortune, but man, in liis sabbath- 



BENEVOLENCE. 229 

less pursuit of the world, is prone to give him 
neither." 

Whatever proportion you decide to consecrate, 
keep in a separate purse, never to be entrenched 
on for other purposes. If it be only a few cents^ 
be faithful ; God can make it more, if He sees you 
are a good steward. Ponder the means of render- 
ing it the most widely and permanently useful. 
Study the economy of charity. By the exercise 
of correct judgment, one dollar may do more good 
than ten times the sum without it. As far as pos- 
sible, increase your portion for the poor, by your 
own industry. " Shall we call ourselves benevo 
lent, says the Baron Degerando, when the gifts 
we bestow do not cost us a single privation ?" To 
ask your parents or friends for money, and give it 
carelessly to the poor, is casting into God's treas- 
ury that which costs you nothing. Either deduct 
it from your regular allowance, or obtain it by your 
own efforts. There are many kinds of elegant 
needle-work, and ingenious device, by which young 
ladies may furnish the means of charity, and at 
the same time confirm industrious habits. I have 
known some, who by rising an hour earlier in the 
morning than usual, and making some garment 
which was needed in the family, received from 
their mother, the price that would have paid the 
seamstress, and thus earned the delight of making 
some shivering child more comfortable for the 
winter. If your time is much at your own dis- 
posal, statedly emplo}'' one hour out of the twenty- 



230 BENEVOLENCE. 

four, in working for some charitable object. More 
will be thus accomplished, than you would at first 
believe. To aid in educating a child, is one of the 
most commendable and profitable designs. Facil- 
ities are recently afforded for doing this for the 
children of heathen lands, in the families of Chris- 
tian teachers. This seems to be emphatically, 
^' saving a soul from death." I have seen a young 
lady, measuring out by an hour-glass, this conse- 
crated portion of the day, with her hands busily 
employed, and the sweetest expression upon her 
mind-illumined face. And I remembered how 
tuneful among the fragrant groves of Ceylon, 
would rise the hymn of praise, from the little 
being whom she was helping to the knowledge of 
God, and the love of a Saviour. I reflected too, 
with gratitude, that at the close of the year, when 
she reviewed its scenes, and every day passed be- 
fore her, with its crown of industry and bounty, 
that she would gather more true delight from their 
simple record, than from the tinselled recollections 
of gayety, and fashibn. Do you think that you are 
too young to enter on an organized system of do- 
ing good ? I knew a school of fifteen members, 
whose ages ranged from six to sixteen years, 
though the greatest proportion were between ten 
and thirteen. They were smitten with the love of 
doing good, and associated themselves into a so- 
ciety for that purpose. In a period of little more 
than two years, they completed for the poor, 160 
garments, many of them carefully altered or judi- 



BENEVOLENCE. 231 

ciously repaired, from their own wardrobe. Among 
these, were 35 pairs of stockings, knit without sac- 
rifice of time, during the reading and recitation 
of a course of history, which formed a principal 
part of their afternoon study. That they might 
render their monthly contributions the fruit of their 
own industry, they employed almost incredible 
diligence, as lessons in different sciences were 
daily required to be studied out of school hours. 
By rising an hour earlier in the morning, time was 
gained for the various uses of the needle, by which 
the pleasure of alms-giving was earned. Among 
their contributions, I recollect ten dollars to an 
asylum for the deaf and dumb, five to the schools 
newly established among the Cherokees, and ten 
in the purchase of religious books, for the children 
of poverty and ignorance. The afternoon of Sat- 
urday, was the only period of recess from school, 
during the week. This single interval of leisure, 
they voluntarily devoted to their chosen occupation 
of doing good. 

When I have found them convened in their 
school-room, on this their only afternoon allotted 
to recreation, and observed them, instead of being 
engaged like others of their age, in useless sports, 
executing works of charity, busily employed with 
their needles, planning how some garment might 
be best accommodated to its object, or some little 
contribution rendered subservient to the greatest 
good, their eyes sparkling with the heart's best 
gladness, and their sweet voices echoing its mel- 



232 BENEVOLENCE. 

ody, T could not but trust that some pure spirit of 
Heaven's prompting hovered over them. There 
was an interesting period in the history of this ht- 
tle institution, when its almoners first commenced 
distributing the " coats and garments," which, like 
Dorcas, they had made with their own hands, for 
the poor. Then they occasionally discovered in- 
stances of suffering which agitated their sensibil- 
ities, sometimes learned the lesson that gratitude 
is not always proportioned to benefits, and often 
returned exulting in the truth that " it is more 
blessed to give than to receive.'^^ No more inter- 
esting report of these visits of charity was ever 
given, than by one lovely girl of nine years of age, 
who was deprived of the powers of hearing and 
speech. Yet though her lips the providence of 
Almighty God had sealed, her eye, her gesture, 
her finely-varied countenance, glowing with the 
spirit of benevolence, left nothing for oral language 
to utter. At this period, the winter was peculiarly 
severe, and the wretchedness of the poor, propor- 
tionably increased. She had accompanied another 
almoner to the miserable lodging of a family re- 
cently removed from a clime where an extreme of 
penury sometimes exists, which, in our favoured 
state of society is seldom knowai. She expressed 
strong commiseration that there was so little fire, 
when the wind was raging without, and the snow 
deep upon the earth, and that a sick babe seemed 
to have neither medicine nor food. Her descrip- 
tion of the thin and tattered garments of tlie 



BENEVOLENCE. 233 

mother, and of her face, marked at once with sor* 
row and with patience, evinced that not the shght- 
est circumstance had escaped her discrimination^ 
while the tears of exquisite pity trembhng in her 
eye, proved that her heart was as Httle accustomed 
to the woes of her fellow-creatures, as to their 
vices. I have detained you longer than I intended, 
with the picture of this little group. It furnishes 
an example in point, that the mind, in its early 
stages, is capable, both of the systematick arrange- 
ment, and the judicious economy of charity. Often, 
while gazing with delight on the circle I have 
attempted to describe, I fondly believed that the 
habits which they were then forming would have 
a lasting influence over their future character, and 
that wherever their lot might be cast, they would 
each of them be blessings in their day and gener 
ation. 

In this, our highly-privileged age, the modes of 
doing good are exceedingly numerous. Be thank- 
ful to any one who furnishes you with one of these 
opportunities. By a man, who was distinguished 
in the science of charity, it was very early in life 
adopted as a maxim, that " capacity and opportu- 
nity to do good, not only give a right to do it, but 
make the doing it a duty." Faithfully did he ob- 
serve this precept. He began in the family of 
his father, by doing all the good in his power to 
brothers and sisters, and domesticks. After he be- 
came engaged in the duties of life, and eminent in 
Hie labours of a sacred profession, every day was 

20* 



234 BENEVOLENCE 

distinguished by either devising or executing some 
design for the benefit of others. Those who in- 
timately knew him, assert, that not a day was suf- 
fered to pass, without his having devoted some 
part of his income to pious purposes. 

Undoubtedly, one of the best modes of assisting 
the poor, is through their own industry. This, 
like the voluntary co-operation of the patient, 
renders the remedies of the physician doubly ef- 
fectual. It elevates character, and prevents that 
humiliating consciousness of dependance, which 
bows a noble spirit, and renders a tame one abject. 
It is peculiarly desirable that children should be 
withheld from habits of mendicity. They inter- 
fere with principles of integrity, and with a health- 
ful self-respect. Aid offered to a mother, in the 
form of some employment, where her children 
may be associated with her, so as to increase and 
share her earnings, is most efficient benevolence. 

A lady of wealth became the resident of a vil- 
lage where there was much poverty. In her 
modes of relief she studied how to afford aliment 
to industry and to hope, rather than to foster help- 
lessness, or call forth a supine gratitude. Her 
excellent judgment suggested a happy expedient. 
She offered to supply those females who came to 
her for assistance, with materials for spinning. 
The proposition w^as generally accepted thank- 
fully. When the yarn was brought, she paid for 
it promptly, adding a trifle more than they had 
been accustomed to receive. This caused her to 



BENEVOLENCE. ' 235 

be soon thronged with apphcants. Weavers as 
well as spinners presented themselves, and the 
busy sound of the wheel and loom, rose cheerfully 
from many an humble habitation. Domestick fab- 
ricks of great durability, and suited to the varied 
wants of families, were thus completed. Such a pro- 
portion of them as were needed by her manufactur- 
ers, she disposed of to them, at a lower price than 
they could elsewhere be obtained, and thus had the 
pleasure of seeing households, once comparatively 
idle or improvident, neatly clothed by the work of 
their own hands. The intercourse which was thus 
promoted, familiarized her with the situation of 
families, and enabled her to make appropriate gifts 
of books to children, cordials to the sick, and com- 
forts to the aged. Aiming still at a more expan- 
sive benevolence, yet avoiding ostentation, she 
selected from among the more intelligent matrons, 
a few, with whom she consulted monthly, on the 
best means of rendering her plans effectual. She 
not only derived advantage from their practical 
good sense, and thorough knowledge of common 
affairs, but communicated happiness by her con- 
descension, and by the feeling that they were found 
worthy to be associated with a superior mind, in 
the science of doing good. Perceiving that there 
were in the village some petty disaffections, ari- 
sing from sectarian jealousies, she arranged that 
each denomination should be represented at this 
humble board of managers, and the pleasant inter* 
course into which they were thus drawn, at their 



236 BEJVEVOLEriCE 

monthly visits of consultation, dissolved prejudice 
and fostered kind affections. In process of time, 
she added a school, for which she provided a com- 
petent instructress, often visiting it herself, and 
statedly distributing premiums to the most deserv- 
ing. By this steady consecration of her influence 
to the best objects, the face of the village was 
changed, and many hearts poured blessings upon 
their benefactress. 

The gift of useful books, may also be ranked 
among the most unexceptionable forms of charity. 
It would be well to choose none for that purpose, 
which you have not first carefully perused. Thus, 
you will not only enrich your own mind from their 
treasures, but become qualified to judge of their 
adaptation to particular stations, characters, and 
states of mind. The Sacred Scriptures, and sim- 
ple treatises enforcing its precepts, without any 
mixture of sectarian bitterness, will doubtless oc- 
cupy a prominent place in your library for distri- 
bution. Biographies of persons, illustrious for 
benevolence and piety, will be found to exercise a 
highly beneficial influence. Make these gifts to such 
as you have reason to think will put them to the best 
use. To the young, it will sometimes be well to 
lend them, on condition, that at returning them, 
they will render you some account of their con- 
tents. This will generally secure an attentive 
perusal, and also give you the opportunity of prof- 
itable conversation, either to engrave some pre- 
cept on their memory, or recommend some exam- 



BENEVOLENCE. 237 

pie to their imitation. Lay useful volumes in the 
way of domesticks, who may thus be induced to 
read them. Who can tell how much good may 
result from a hint, or train of thought thus sug- 
gested ? Dr. Franklin, so eminent for publick spirit, 
and so distinguished in distant lands for his designs 
of utility, acknowledges : " If I have ever been a 
useful citizen, the publick owe the advantage of it 
to a small book, which I met with when a boy, 
entitled, ' Essays to do Good,' written by the Rev. 
Dr. Cotton Mather. It had been so little regarded 
by its former possessor, that several leaves were 
torn out, but the remainder gave me such a turn 
of thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct 
through life : for I have always set a greater value 
on the character of the doer of good, than any other 
kind of reputation." 

The missionary zeal of Henry Martyn, which 
left his name as a burning light among the churches, 
was enkindled by a perusal of the life of David 
Brainerd. Samuel J. Mills, the pioneer of mercy 
to long-neglected Africa, and Fisk, who in his 
labours of love, followed his Master's footsteps 
from despised Nazareth, to the vales of Betha- 
ny, ascended breezy Olivet, and wept among the 
shades of Gethsemane, derived their prompting 
impulse from the same book. Nor will it be pos- 
sible to compute, until the scrutiny of the last ac 
count, how much of the wisdom of the truly great, 
of the virtue of those who have been benefactors 
to mankind, or of the piety of the saint who hath 



238 BENEVOLENCE. 

entered into bliss, has been the fruit of some silent 
and eloquent page, perhaps accidentally read, or 
gratuitously presented. 

When I look back upon the sheltered and flowery 
path of childhood, one image is ever there, vivid 
and cherished above all others. It is of hoary 
temples, and a brow furrowed by more than four- 
score winters, yet to me more lovely than the 
bloom of beauty, or the freshness of youth, for it 
is associated with the benevolence of an angel. 
Among the tireless acts of bounty, which rendered 
her name a watchword in the cells of poverty, 
and her house a beacon-light to the broken in heart, 
were the gift of books, and the education of indi- 
gent children. On stated days, the children of the 
neighbourhood were gathered around her, fed at 
her table, made happy by her kindness, instructed 
from her lips, and encouraged to read and under- 
stand the books with which her library was stored 
for their use. Surely, in some of those hearts, the 
melody of that voice, speaking of things that " per- 
tain unto the kingdom of God," is still treasured ; 
among the eyes that were then raised to her 
with affectionate reverence, some must still 
delight to restore her image, as well as that 
which now fills with the tear of an undying 
gratitude. 

That a desire of goodness may not evaporate 
in empty protestations, or lose itself in desultory 
paths, let us endeavour to mark out a map to regu- 
late its course. A system, adapted like the fol- 



BENEVOLENCE. 239 

lowing, to every day in the week, may help both 
10 define duty, and to secure perseverance : — 

Sunday, — What shall I do to manifest my grati- 
tude to my Almighty Benefactor ? Shall I not, 
on this hallowed day, abstain from worldly pur- 
suits and conversation, study his holy word, recount 
his mercies with a thankful spirit, and solicit his 
blessing on all the employments and changes of 
the week ? 

Monday, — What good can I do for my parents 
or friends older than myself, to whom I am indebt- 
ed ? Can I perform any office conducive to their 
comfort, or signahze, by any increase of respect 
or tenderness, my obedience and affection ? 

Tuesday, — How can I advance the improvement 
of my brothers and sisters, or the servants, or any 
other member of the family ? 

Wednesday. — Can I exert any influence over my 
companions, neighbours or intimate friends, to read 
some useful book, and make its contents the subject 
of conversation, or to perform some good work ? 

Thursday. — Are there any poor whom I may 
visit — sick, whom I may assist — sorrowful, with 
whom I may sympathize ? Have I no portion to 
carry to the destitute — no message of comfort 
from Heaven, to those w^ho are in adversity ? 

Friday. — Are there any who feel unkindly 
towards me, and is it in my power to render them 
any friendly office ? Let me strive to return good 
for evil, if it be only by an increased kindness and 
courtesy of deportment. 



240 BENEVOLENCE, 

Saturday, — What can I do for my own spiritual 
improvement ? Let me in solitude take a review 
of my conduct during the week, comparing each 
day with the resolutions w^iich were adopted to 
guide it. From my omissions may I learn hu- 
mility and wisdom, and by self-communion and 
prayer, gather strength to pass another week more 
as I shall w^sh I had, when the close of life ap- 
proaches. 

As a part of the science which we contemplate, 
let us now bestow some attention on the manner 
of doing good. In imparting relief to the poor, 
always regard their feelings. Let the law of kind- 
ness dwell on your lips whenever you address 
them. Are we better than they, because a larger 
proportion of this world's fleeting possessions have 
fallen to our share ? He who " maketh us to dif- 
fer," will surely be displeased, if there is pride in 
our heart, or unkindness on our lips, towards our 
poor brother. Do good without seeking a return, 
even of grateful acknowledgment. Disinterested- 
ness is essential to proficiency in this science. 
What reward did Howard expect, when he resigned 
the ease of affluence, and encountered hardships 
and peril of life, ^' to dive into the depth of dun- 
geons — to plunge into the infection of hospitals — • 
to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain — to 
take the gauge of misery, depression and con- 
tempt — to remember the forgotten — to attend 
to the neglected — to visit the forsaken — and 
to compare and collate the distresses of all 



BENEVOLENCE. 241 

men in all countries ?" Verily, his reward is in 
heaven. 

Not only must you persevere in good offices, 
^vithout looking for a return, but even should in- 
gratitude be your portion. It may sometimes 
happen, that the most laborious efforts for the good 
of others are misunderstood, misconstrued, or 
repaid with indifference and dislike. Still hold on 
your course, with an unchanged mind. Your ob- 
ject is not the applause of men, neither should 
their injustice deter you. You have taken Him 
for your pattern, who " sendeth rain on the just 
and on the unjust, and doeth good unto the un- 
thankful and evil." 

In your charities avoid ostentation. It is ex- 
ceedingly disgusting to make allusions to them, as 
if anxious for observation and praise. Never speak 
of them at all, unless explanation is necessary. 
You may excite your young companions to similar 
efforts, without blazoning your own deeds. There 
is a sacred secrecy in true charity, which he, who 
violates, hath mistaken its nature. Scripture de- 
fines it, in the figurative injunction, " not to let the 
left hand know what the right hand doeth." God, 
whose eye is upon the soul, and who weigheth its 
motives of action, perceiveth, that unless charity 
dwell with humility, its deeds are nothing worth. 
The most benevolent, have ever been the most 
humble. 

There are certain classes of benevolent deeds, 
"4iich fall so peculiarly within the province of fe- 

2\ 



242 BENEVOLENCE. 

males^ as to have obtained the name of feminine 
charities. I allude to the relief of the famishing, 
and the care of the sick. 

Indeed the very etymology of the v^ord lady, 
which has been resolved into a Saxon term, com- 
posed of loaf, and to serve, signifies that dealing 
food to the hungry was deemed so essential a fea- 
ture in her character, that the giver of the loaf 
and the lady, became synonymous. In the days 
of primitive Christianity, ladies of the highest rank 
were often found at the bedside of the humblest 
sufferer, meekly ministering to their necessities. 
The example of the sisters of a sect, differing from 
our own, deserves the tribute of our respect and 
admiration. The nuns, attached to the Romish 
faith, have long been eminent for their services to 
sick and dying strangers : they have been found 
in hospitals, and amid the ravages of pestilence, 
fearless of contagion, and unconscious of fatigue, 
smoothing the sleepless pillow of disease, and 
never deserting the sufferer, though forsaken by 
all beside, until death comes to his release. Justly 
have they earned the appellation of '' sisters ol 
charity," and let us gladly render praise where it 
is due, and be quickened to emulation in the path 
of goodness, even by those, whose opinions may 
differ from our own. 

An ancient WTiter has styled the poor, " the re- 
ceivers of Christ's rents." It would seem that he 
had constituted them his representatives. In sooth- 
ing the grief of his disciples, at their approaching 



BENEVOLENCE. 243 

separation, he said : " Me ye have not alv^ays, but 
the poor are always w^ith you, and whensoever ye 
will, ye may do them good." An obligation is 
thus created, to extend to them the same compas- 
sion, which we would have shown to our Saviour, 
had we been permitted to hear from his lips the 
assertion, that ''he had not where to lay his head." 
If, therefore, we admit the proposition, that the 
" poor are the receivers of Christ's rents," there is 
no room left for exultation in our acts of bounty. 
Is there any merit in the payment of a just debt ? 
" Verily, boasting is excluded." The call is for 
gratitude, that we are allowed the privilege. " The 
poor," said the venerable Bishop Wilson, '^receive 
at our hands the rights and dues, belonging unto 
God. — We must have a care of defrauding them." 
The mother of the Chevalier Bayard, in her advice 
to him, says : " Be bountiful, of the good-s that God 
shall give you, to the poor and needy, for to 
give for his honour's sake, never made any man 
poor ; and believe me, my son, the alms that you 
shall dispense, will greatly profit both your body 
and soul." 

Mankind are like one great family, dividing 
among each other the gifts of a common parent. 
Those who are permitted to impart, should thank 
him with a cheerful and humble spirit. The inter- 
change of benefits, the communion of giving and 
receiving, creates some of the best affections of 
which our nature is capable. The generous sym- 
pathy — the active benevolence — the mutual de- 



244 BENEVOLENCE. 

pendance, which are thus awakened and confirmed, 
are powerful preparatives for heartfelt piety. So 
that doing good is one of the legitimate paths to 
being good. Therefore, have I so much pressed 
it upon your susceptible hearts, dear young friends, 
now, in life's sunny morning, while God is wait- 
ing to be gracious. But now I must quit this de- 
lightful subject, lest your patience refuse longer to 
bear with me. 

In the fabulous record of ancient times, it is 
stated that when the name of Plutarch was men- 
tioned, the echo replied, Philosophy : so when you 
shall slumber beneath the clods of the valley, and 
your names are uttered by the living, may the re- 
sponse be in many hearts, Benevolence, 



LETTER XVL 



SELF-CONTROL. 



That self-regulating power, by which the affec 
tions and passions are subjugated to the dictates 
of duty, and the precepts of inspiration, should be 
assiduously cultivated by woman. Appointed all 
her life, to be " under tutors and governors," both 
her comfort and safety require, that the principle 
of discipline should be rooted in her heart. As au- 
thority is best exercised, by those who have them- 
selves learned subordination, so she should govern 
herself, that she may be better able to obey. As 
the strength of nations, is in the unity of individ- 
uals — so the beauty of a well-balanced character, 
may be traced back to the element of self-control. 

Other checks are of unequal operation. The 
eye of authority cannot always be vigilant. The 
heart that we delight to make happy, cannot always 
be near. The love of popularity may create an 
artificial goodness, and stir up hypocrisy to adorn 
a " whited sepulchre." But that voice which 
composes the warring factions of the soul, com- 
mands silence when Reason speaks, and enforces 
obedience when Virtue lifts her sceptre, must de- 
rive its strength from above. Such a regimen as 

21* 



246 SELF-CONTROL. 

promotes this great result, should be steadily pin- 
sued by the young. 

Submission to parents, teachers and superiors, 
harmony with brothers, sisters, and friends, pre- 
pare the way for those more arduous relative du- 
ties which devolve upon our sex : and all are ren- 
dered comparatively easy to her, whose heart is 
habitually governed by the understanding. I do 
not say that these are ever so perfectly discharged, 
that at the close of any day there will be no room 
for regret or compunction. The record of the best 
day on earth will but teach her who measures deed 
and motive by the "length and breadth of a law 
divine," to lay her lip in the dust. Still this pain 
ful consciousness is salutary. It may stimulate to 
new exertion, while it levels the fabricks of pride. 
We should be convinced of infirmity, but not con- 
tented with it. 

Calmness and equanimity are excellent virtues 
m our sex, and the more so, as our sphere of ac- 
tion is exposed to those lesser causes of irritation 
which more effectually, than great afflictions, try 
the temper of the soul. We think it hard to have 
our wishes opposed — our motives misunderstood, 
or our " good deeds evil spoken of." Yet these 
must often occur. It is wisest to meet unkind 
remark and ridicule, with little notice, or with no 
reply ; as Eneas was instructed to pass in silence, 
the monstrous shapes, and mocking chimeras, 
which his sword menaced in vain. Thus, the 
waste of feeling is saved, and the triumph of 



SELF-CONTROL. 247 

malice prevented ; for malice is more readily dis- 
armed by indifference, than by conflict, or retalia- 
tion. 

It is a still higher attainment in the science of 
self-command, to bear trials of temper with an un- 
changed cheerfulness of deportment. '' In all my 
persecutions," said Count Bouneval, an unfortunate 
officer, under Prince Eugene, " I have never lost 
either my appetite, or my good humour." Uncon- 
genial companions and employments, for which we 
have no taste, must sometimes be endured. The 
sweet and salutary submission with which such 
untoward circumstances may be sustained, was 
beautifully illustrated by Winkelman : " "While I 
taught a-b-c, to little slovenly, children, I was 
aspiring after the knowledge of the beautiful, and 
meditating low to myself on the similes of Homer. 
Then I said, as I still say, ^ Peace, my soul, thy 
strength shall surmount thy necessities.' " 

A fixed principle of equanimity is required, not 
only to discharge duties adverse to the taste, but 
to meet without elation, the sudden sunbeam of 
prosperity. The nature of our government admits 
of unexpected changes in the condition of men, 
and reverses for which there could have been little 
or no preparation. A firm and accurate mental 
balance is required, to hold our way upon a height 
without giddiness. Perhaps, no better eulogium 
has been pronounced on the wife of Cesar, than 
the remark of an historian, that the triumphs of 
her husband never inspired her with presumption, 



248 SELF-CONTROL. 

nor his reverses with dejection. No change of 
manner, ever designated to others, when she was 
the wife of the senator, or the wife of the master 
of the world. Though a participation in Roman 
triumphs, will never put our philosophy to the 
proof ; yet the principle of equanimity under every 
change of fortune, is both noble and consistent in 
the daughters of a republick. "Those continual 
crossings and traversings which beset us," says a 
Christian moralist, " are but so many lessons, 
teaching us to conform ourselves to the life of 
Him, who pleased not himself.'^ 

Self-control is essential to females because the 
duties of their peculiar station so often demand 
its exercise. Though they are happily excused 
from a part in those political convulsions, which 
leave traces of blood on the tablet of history, yet 
in the routine of domestick life, are many unfor 
seen and distressing emergencies, which need the 
calm summoning and prompt application of every 
power. How often do sudden sickness, or severe 
casualty, require the aid of the tenderest hand. 
And how painful is it for the sufferer to be dis- 
tressed by the agitation of those whom he loves, 
or by their inability to render such services as are 
most important to his welfare. 

The dangers which occur in travelling, or on 
voyages, are often of an appalling nature. Then, 
it is the part of our sex, not to embarrass those 
who have the superintendance, with the burden of 
their own fear* to do w^'th as much calmness as 



SELF-CONTROL. 249 

they can command, all that is in their power for 
the aid or consolation of others, and to bear with 
resignation, their own share of evil. Confidence 
in the Supreme Being, and an habitual surrender 
of ourselves to the care of that Pi evidence, without 
w^hich " not a sparrow falleth," are the surest 
foundations for this fabrick of duty. A serene 
brow, a calm voice, and a manner free from per- 
turbation, amid impending dangers, are high attain 
m.ents in woman, and often aid to inspire the 
stronger sex with courage, amid their more exposed 
stations of hazard and of toil. The Rev. John 
Wesley, during a voyage to America, encountered 
a terrible storm, w^hich threatened shipwreck. The 
most hardy seamen gave up all for lost, and many 
proud minds yielded to dismay and despair. Amid 
this scene of confusion, he saw a little band of 
Moravians gathered together, singing with calm 
voices, a hymn to the Redeemer. It w^as sweet 
in that hour of tumult and terror, to hear the tones 
of the mother and the child, blend untremulous 
with the deeper intonations of the father, and the 
pastor. — Beyond all hope, the tempest subsided. 
Wesley expressed his surprise to the spiritual 
teacher of the Moravians, at the self-command of 
his people, especially of the more timid sex, and 
of the little ones. " Our women and children,^^ he 
replied with simplicity, " are not afraid to dieP 

If timidity in seasons of danger, should be re- 
sisted, the indulgence of imaginary fears, is still 
less to be tolerated. Few causes have more con 



250 SELF-CONTROL. 

spired to perpetuate the opinion of the mental in- 
feriority of females, than their tendency to yield to 
slight alarms. To shriek at a reptile, to be ready 
to swoon at every unpleasant sight, to express ex- 
aggerated sentiments of terror on every possible 
occasion, though it may be endured or even flat- 
tered in the season of youth and beauty, is entirely 
beneath that dignity which our sex ought to main- 
tain. There is also a vain imagination, nourished 
by improper reading, which produces ridiculous 
results. To fancy one's self in this very " matter- 
of-fact age," an object of admiration to chivalrous 
knights, and disguised heroes, or in danger from 
assassins, robbers, or spectral and undefinable be- 
ings, is too ludicrous for serious argument. Scorn 
all aff'ectation, but consider that of fear, as espe- 
cially ill-judged and unfortunate. That construc- 
tion of character which leads woman to depend on 
man as her natural protector, is calculated to 
awaken his interest, because it arouses him to 
what his Creator intended him to be, a guard and 
covert for the " weaker vessel." But it is false 
policy to make unnecessary appeals. They have 
no eff*ect upon the judicious, except to create dis- 
gust. If you are really timid, my dear young 
friends, set yourselves to reform it as a fault of 
character. Summon to uniform and rational ac- 
tion, the powers with which you are endow^ed, and 
strengthen them by trust in the sleepless w^atch 
of His fatherly care, to whom the lowest sigh of 
the feeblest nature is audiWe 



SELF-CONTROL. 25 1 

1 have seen in one of our own sex, a presence 
of mind so consistent, that no unexpected duty, or 
sudden alarm, or distressing emergency, found it 
unprepared. The judgment was always clear, the 
spirits unhurried, and the mind ready for action. 
It was united with superior talents, and gained 
from all who witnessed it, perfect respect. It 
seemed, in this instance, to have affinity with the 
principle of longevity, and to aid life to run clear, 
and bright, and dregless, to the last drop. In be- 
holding it intimately, as it was my privilege to do, 
I have often been reminded of the beautiful senti- 
ment of Plutarch, " one of the rewards of philoso- 
phy, is long life." Rational and firm piety was at 
its foundation, and as it has been exemplified by 
woman, so doubtless it m.ay be again. 

To eradicate our passions, to annihilate the 
strong perceptions of pleasure and pain, and to 
preserve apathy under severe afflictions, would be 
impossible, if it were desired, and not to be desir- 
ed, if it were possible. " It is not right," says the 
excellent Pascal, " that we should remain without 
pain or grief, under the afflictions which befall us, 
like angels, who are above the sentiments of our 
nature ; neither is it right that we should indulge 
grief without consolation, like heathen, who have 
no sentiments of grace. But we ought both to 
mourn and to be comforted like Christians ; the 
consolations of grace should rise superior to the 
feelings of nature, so that grace may not only 
dwell m, but be victorious over us." To be de- 



252 SELF-CONTROLa 

Toid of emotion is not required by the Author of 
our being. The sympathies of this state of sor- 
row would be but faintly exhibited ; the duties that 
depend upon the affections but feebly performed, 
were a system of stoicism established. But so to 
temper the discordant principles of our nature, 
that they disturb not the harmony of society, 
so to rule its stormy elements, that they make 
not shipwreck of the soul, is a practicable sci- 
ence. 

It has been urged as a reproach to our sex, that 
we were prone to be discomposed by trifles. Our 
business is among trifles. Household occupations, 
to men engrossed by the sublime sciences, seem a 
tissue of trifles. Yet, as "trifles make the sum of 
human things," so the comfort of a family is af- 
fected by the touching, or not touching, many 
minute springs, which like " a wheel within a 
wheel," are of secret operation, but essential im- 
portance. Susceptible as we are, by our original 
construction, and often rendered more so, by deli- 
cate health, or nervous temperament, trivial obsta 
cles are sometimes encountered with less calm 
ness, than heavy adversities. Our danger from 
slight causes of irritation, is obvious. So also is 
the remedy. Suffer not the heart to be fixed on 
trifles. If our sphere of action comprises them, 
there is no reason why they should destroy our ca- 
pacity for enjoyment. Supply the thoughts with 
nobler subjects of contemplation. When the little 
angry billows beat against the bark, look aloft. 



SELF-COKTROL. 253 

The pole-star never varies. The pilot i? always 
the same. 

Presence of mind is an attainment highly to be 
valued. Those w^ho are desirous to possess it, 
must avoid the indulgence of whatever disorders 
the equilibrium of the n:iind. They should nevei 
he in a hurry. This is not only ungraceful, and 
uncomfortable to others, but often subversive of 
the end in view. It has been long acknowledged 
by observers of human nature, that those who are 
most frequently in a hurry, perform the least. 
They overthrow their own plans, and the mind 
which loses its balance, like a planet which for- 
sakes its sphere, is in danger of disconcerting the 
orbit of others, and running wild into the realm of 
disorder. 

Because woman is deficient in physical strength, 
it does not follow that she need be so in moral 
courage. Many examples might be cited, to prove 
that she is not. Passive and patient endurance 
has been often so naturalized, as to seem indi- 
genous. Instances of intrepidity might also be 
adduced, which has conquered the most formid- 
able difficulties and dangers. When Queen Chris- 
tina was once visiting some ships-of-war, that 
were building at Stockholm, a circumstance oc- 
curred which revealed her presence of mind in 
danger. While crossing a narrow plank, con- 
ducted by the oldest admiral, in consequence of a 
false step, he fell, and drew her with him, into 
water nearly a hundred feet in depth. Some of 



254 SELF-CONTROL. 

the first nobles of the realm, plunging in, she was 
rescued. The moment her head was raised above 
the sea, entirely forgetful of herself, she said, 
^' Take care of the admiral." On being brought to 
shore, she testified no agitation, but having been 
expected to dine in publick that day — she did so, 
with perfect calmness of manner, and her usual 
degree of animation. 

Another instance, shows still more fully, her 
admirable self-control. An assassin, such as too 
often lurks in the vicinity of courts, had determined 
to take away her life. He was disordered in in- 
tellect, and laid his plan both with the cunning and 
rashness of insanity. He sought the queen, du- 
ring divine service in the chapel, and waited for the 
moment, when, according to the ritual of the 
Swedish church, the act of recollection is per- 
formed. Then every member of the congregation 
kneeling, and covering the face with the hand, en- 
gages in silent and separate devotion. Rush- 
ing through the crowd, and striking aside the 
guards, who crossed their partisans at his ap 
proach, he leaped the barrier that divided him from 
the queen, and aimed a deadly blow at her, with 
a knife. His design was prevented, and he was 
seized and borne away. Christina, fixing her 
eyes upon him calmly for a moment, returned to 
her devotions, and no subsequent emotion testified 
that her life had been in danger. 

Firmness and magnanimity are not often thus 
tested in woman, but history has connected with 



SELF-CONTROL. 255 

her, many illustrations of that moral courage, which 
rises with opposing circumstances, and turns even 
adversity to advantage. 

During the troubles that convulsed the reign 
of Henry VI. of England, Margaret, his queen, 
having adventured her life to rescue her captive 
husband, was flying after defeat in battle. She 
found herself in the midst of a thick forest in Scot- 
land, not knowing whither to direct her course. 
Amid thick darkness, that would have terrified one 
less heroick, and fatigue that must have exhausted 
every spirit but that of a mother, she bore in her 
arms her only son. Prince Edward, who had sunk 
from w^eariness, and want of food. The almost 
impervious wood was infested by bold and relent- 
less robbers. A band of them, starting from their 
hiding-places, seized the royal fugitive, and plun- 
dered her of the jewels, on which alone she de- 
pended for subsistence. Still, preserving her pres- 
ence of mind, she meditated the means of escape. 
Perceiving that they were about to quarrel 
about the division of the treasure, she waited 
until they were engaged in contention, and then, 
with her child, plunged into the pathless forest. 

A short time only elapsed, when from a dark 
thicket, a gigantick robber suddenly approached 
her, with a drawn sword. By the concealed light 
that he bore, she saw that his countenance w^as 
grim and dead to pity. Raising her spirits to the 
fearful occasion, she held tow^ards him the young 
prince, and with a serene and commanding voice. 



256 SELF-CONTROL. 

said : " Here, my friend, save the son of your king !" 
Awed by her majesty, and subdued by so un- 
wonted an appeal to his generosity, he kneeled at 
her feet, took in his arms the sacred charge in- 
trusted to him, and by his aid, Margaret being 
enabled to reach the coast, safely embarked for 
Flanders. 

Patience in sickness, and the power of physical 
endurance, have been conceded to our sex. They 
have also repeatedly exemplified a noble fortitude 
under afflictions of the heart. Illustrations might 
be gathered from the pages of history, and one 
which has been to me peculiarly touching, is that 
of Lady Russell. Though, from your acquaintance 
with the history of England, you are doubtless fa- 
miliar with it, you will allow^ me the gratification 
of slightly recapitulating it. When her husband. 
Lord William Russell, distinguished for patriotism 
and virtue, w^as arraigned by the turbulence and 
tyranny which marked a part of the reign of 
Charles IL, and stood on his trial for life, he was 
inhumanly refused the benefit of counsel. All that 
he could obtain, was permission for an amanuensis 
to assist him in taking notes. Immediately his 
wife came to his side with her pen, serene and 
self-possessed, to aid him in that last extremity. 
When the daughter of the noble Earl of South- 
ampton, the favourite of the people, was seen per- 
forming this painful service for her lord, a murmur 
of the deepest sympathy and indignation arose 
from that assembly. After his unjust condemna- 



SELF-CONTROIi. 257 

tion, when she came to take her last farewell of 
him in prison, though her tenderness for him was 
inexpressible, she controlled the expression of 
grief, lest she might discompose the soul that she 
loved, while it stood on the solemn verge of eter- 
nity. When she had departed, the sentenced no- 
bleman said, " Now the bitterness of death is past ;" 
and prepared himself for the scaffold with Chris- 
tian heroism. 

There are many instances where the heart rules 
its agony, that difficult duty may be firmly dis- 
charged, which no splendour of rank renders illus- 
trious, and no historian's tablet records. The noble 
principles which actuated this illustrious lady, may 
operate in obscurity and poverty, where the soul, 
unsustained by sympathy, uncheered by human 
applause, depends solely on itself, and on its God, 
An incident of recent occurrence exhibits equal 
fortitude, though difierently called into exercise. 
One of the small islands in Boston bay, was in- 
habited by a single poor family. The father was 
taken suddenly sick. There was no physician. 
The wife, on whom every labour for the household 
devolved, was sleepless in care and tenderness, by 
the bed of her suffering husband. Every remedy 
in her power to procure, was administered, but the 
disease was acute, and he died. Seven young 
children mourned around the lifeless corpse. They 
were the sole beings upon that desolate spot. Did 
the mother indulge the grief of her spirit and sit 
down in despair? No. She entered upon the 

22* 



258 SELF-CONTROL. 

arduous and sacred duties of her station. She felt 
that there was no hand to aid her in burying her 
dead. Providing as far as possible for the com- 
fort of her little ones, she put the babe into the 
arms of the oldest, and charged the two next in 
age, to watch the corpse of their father. She un- 
moored her husband's fishing boat, which but two 
days before, he had guided over the sea, to obtain 
food for his family. She dared not yield to those 
tender recollections, that might have unnerved her 
arm. The nearest island was at the distance of 
three miles. Strong winds lashed the waters to 
foam. Over the loud billows, that wearied and 
sorrowful woman rowed, and was preserved. She 
reached the next island, and obtained necessary 
aid. With such energy did her duty to her deso- 
late babes inspire her, that the voyage which de- 
pended on her individual effort, was performed in 
a shorter period than the returning one, when the 
oars were managed by two men, who went to assist 
in the last offices to the dead. 

Instances of fortitude might be gathered from 
almost every rank and station, at home and abroad. 
Still, it is not for calamities of great magnitude, 
such as fill the publick eye with sympathy, that 
our sex are frequently summoned to prepare them- 
selves. It is rather to bear with serene patience 
the lesser ills of life, and to evince the uniform 
guidance of correct principles and dispositions, in 
the sheltered province of domestick duty. 

In our sex, there is a pliancy of mental, as well 



SELF-CONTROL. 259 

as physical organization, which readily adapts 
itself to change of situation. This renders it easier 
for them to perform that important class of duti-es, 
which console and animate those whom they love 
under reverses or sorrows. How often amid the 
wilds of this western world, has the cheering smile 
of the wife or daughter, sustained the desponding 
emigrant. How often have they forgotten their 
own privations, in the labours which procured 
comfort for others. 

The most refined minds, have sometimes dis- 
played this magnanimity in the greatest promi- 
nence. " O what a comfort !" exclaimed the ac- 
complished Elizabeth Smith, when after the failure 
of the bank, which had reduced them from afflu- 
ence to poverty, she followed the fortunes of her 
father, and quitting a beautiful mansion and en- 
deared society, entered the rude barracks which 
had been provided for the family, in Ireland. — 
" Comfort !" said her mother, " there seems none 
left for us." — " O yes," replied she, " sweetest, 
dearest mother, see, here is a little cupboard." 
The matron acknowledged herself reproved by 
the bright smile of that angel- spirit, which would 
have called forth verdure and beauty amid the 
most parched and dreary pilgrimage of life. 

Among the many females, who in this land have 
encountered the toils of emigration, and the hard- 
ships inseparable from the establishment of a new 
colony, was one, who half a century since, removed 
with her husband, and the young germs of their 



260 SELF-CONTROL. 

household, to the distant and unsettled western 
expanse. The fatigues and perils of their journey 
were unusual. Many miles at its close, were 
through a tangled forest, whose only path, was a 
rude trace, cut by the axe. A strong vehicle, 
drawn by oxen, conveyed their simple furniture 
and means of subsistence. The wife and mother 
cheerfully proceeded on foot. Her first-born, a 
boy of ten years old, was sickly, and seemed 
rather hke a denizen of the grave, than a hardy 
pioneer of the unplanted world. She was strength- 
ened to bear him the greater part of the way, in 
her arms, or clinging to her shoulders, and to com- 
fort his sad heart with hymns when they halted 
to rest. 

In the recesses of a dreary forest, they formed 
their habitation of rough logs, and covered it with 
hemlock bark. Its floor was of earth, and they 
had no windows of glass, through which to admit 
the cheering beam of heaven. The mistress of 
that poor dwelling, exerted herself by neatness, 
and order, and an unvarying cheerfulness of man- 
ner, to lead its inmates to forget their many pri- 
vations. She did not sadly contrast it with the 
lighted halls, and carpets, and sofas, and vases of 
breathing flowers, among which she had spent her 
youth; nor with the circles of elegance and refine- 
ment, which she had loved, and where she had 
been beloved in return. She made herself happy 
among the hard duties which became the wife of 
a lowly emigrant. Reverses of fortune, had made 



SELF-CONTROL. ' 261 

this removal necessary, and she determined not to 
repine. 

Through the day she laboured, and the carol of 
her frequent song rose up strangely sweet, from 
the bosom of that deep wilderness. At evening, 
she assembled her children, and instructed them. 
She could not bear that ignorance should be their 
portion, and diligently poured into their minds, the 
knowledge which she had treasured up in her own. 
They early learned to love the few books that she 
possessed, and to revere that piety, which was the 
source of their parent's happiness. 

Years fled, and the features of the savage land- 
scape, assumed the busy cast of a vigorous set- 
tlement. Her children, and her children's children 
grew up, and planted themselves around her, like 
the stems of the banian. More than fourscore 
years passed over her, yet she remained firm, use- 
ful, contented, and wearing on her countenance 
the same smile which had lighted her through the 
world. Her descendants of the third generation, 
became equal in number to the years of her own 
life. She loved all ; and every one heard from 
her lips, the teachings of wisdom, and the law of 
peace. 

At length. Death came for her. As he slowly 
approached. Time drew a misty curtain over all 
surrounding things. The love of her first, far 
home, and the unfulfilled hope to vi^it it, had been 
the most deep-set earthly images in her soul. 
Even that pictured scenery faded away. The 



262 SELF-CONTROL. 

paternal mansion, with its sweet flower-garden, 
and musick of falling waters — the school-house, 
with its merry group — the white spire among the 
elms — -images from childhood, so indelible, were 
no more remembered. Her children, gathering in 
tears around her bed, were also forgotten. Yet 
still they heard her softly murmuring from her 
dying pillow : " Our Father, who art in heaven." 
And even when Death smote her, the favourite 
petition under all the sorrows of her pilgrimage, 
burst forth, in a clear deep intonation, " Thy will 
he done^ 

The first effectual step towards self-government, 
is self'knoioledge. The law-giver who would 
adapt his code to the happiness of a people, must 
inform himself of their history and habits, their 
dangers, and resources. The physician should 
know something of the constitution of his patient, 
as well as of the symptoms of disease, ere he can 
safely assume the responsibility of his cure. And 
you, dear young friends, who would be adepts in 
the science of self-control, must not only take a 
general view of the infirmities of your nature, but 
of your individual weaknesses, your tendencies to 
prejudice, and temptations to evil. Inquire what 
has been the source of the prevailing errors which 
have hitherto marked your life. Daily pursue the 
investigation, until you are intimate with your own 
peculiarities and motives of conduct. Nightly 
converse with yourself ere you retire to rest. 
Thus will you learn where to apply the check, the 



SELF-CONTROL. 263 

remedy, the encouragement, and with rational hope 
of success, mark out the path in which you are 
to travel, and the points where you may indulge 
repose. 

Self-control is promoted by humility. Pride is 
a fruitful source of uneasiness. It keeps the mind 
in disquiet. Too high an opinion of ourselves, 
involves the desire of impressing others with the 
same opinion. This is often attended with diffi- 
culty. If we do not succeed in inspiring them 
with an equal idea of our own merits, we shall be 
expecting more deference and regard than they 
are inclined to pay. So, pride will be disappointed 
and offended. Possibly we may see others the 
object of those attentions which were withheld 
from as. We are sure that they are less worthy 
than ourselves. Then pride calls in envy and 
jealousy, who wait in her train, and raises a mutiny 
in the soul. So, the mind which ought to settle 
and subside, that the powers which have a right to 
rule within it, may rise to their just degrees of 
ascendency, becomes like the " troubled sea, which 
cannot rest." Humility is the antidote of this evil. 
As those who have taken the widest range in 
knowledge, perceive untravelled regions beyond 
them, to which the " little hour-glass of man's life'* 
is not adequate, so those who hav3 gained the 
highest ascents in true wisdom, are disposed to 
take the lowest place at the footstool of God. Sir 
Francis Bacon, in a devout address to the Almighty, 
preserved among his manuscripts, says : " Ever 



264 SELF-CONTROL. 

when I have ascended before men, I have descend- 
ed in humiliation before Thee." The great Boer- 
haave, so distinguished by the attainment of the 
most serene self-command, was so profoundly 
humble, that when he heard of any criminal con- 
demned to execution, he would exclaim : " Who 
can tell, whether this man is not better than I ? 
Or if I am better, it is not to be ascribed to myself, 
but to the goodness of God." The celebrated 
Elizabeth Smith, whose short life was an unvaried 
scene of virtue, whose industry vanquished many 
obstacles to obtain the knowledge of nine lan- 
guages, and whose translations from the Hebrew 
and German were the w^onder of the learned, 
gained such an intimate acquaintance with her 
nature, and so entire a victory over it, that her 
distinguishing feature was humility, and she was 
sweetly characterized, as 

" Still unobtrusive, serious, and meek, 
The first to listen, and the last to speak." 

Self-government is promoted by correct views 
of life. She who considers it a state where ac- 
complishments will always ensure admiration, and 
merit receive full reward — where it is necessary 
only to embark on the '' smooth surface of a sum- 
mer sea,^' and gain the' port, amid the applauses of 
favouring spectators — will discover that fancy and 
fiction have deluded her. She who imagines that 
its duties may be easily discharged, or their per- 
formance always appreciated — that virtue will have 



SE1.F-C ONTKOL. £65 

no foes to resist, and unalloyed happiness flourish 
in a congenial soil, will find that she has mistaken 
a state of trial for a state of reward. She who 
expects entire consistency from those around, and 
is astonished that they sometimes misunderstand 
and grieve her, should look deeper into her own 
heart, and inquire, why she exacts from others, a 
perfection which she has not herself attained. Be 
not satisfied, my dear young friends, until you 
have gained that equanimity which is not depressed 
or elated by slight causes ; that dignity which de- 
scends neither to trifle, nor to be trifled with; and 
that perseverance in the pursuit of excellence, 
which presses onward and upward, as an eagle 
toward the sun. 

" The high'est and most profitable learning,'' 
says Thomas a Kempis, " is the knowledge of our- 
selves. To have a low opinion of our own merits, 
and to think highly of others, is an evidence of 
wisdom. Therefore, though thou seest another 
openly offend, and commit sin, take thence no oc- 
casion to value thyself for superior goodness, since 
thou canst not tell how long thou wilt be able to 
persevere in the narrow path of virtue. All men 
are frail, but thou shouldest reckon none so frail 
as thyself." 

No self-government is perfect without religion, 
foi since there are agents within us, whose force 
we may fail to estimate, and which springing sud- 
denly into action, may destroy the fabrick on which 
philosophy has laboured for years ; and since we 

23 



266 8ELF-C0NT R O L. 

have not the gift of prescience, and cannot always 
measure the future by the past, is it not safest to 
rely for aid on the Former of our bodies, the 
Father of our spirits, who hath said, " if any lack 
wisdom, and ask of Him, he giveth liberally and 
upbraideth not?'^ 

Let us rest our self-control on the behef that He 
is able to do all things — that he will do all things 
well — that even evil shall work for the good of 
those who love him, that nothing can divide us 
from his care, and that even death cannot hurt 
those who have the passport to a happy immor- 
tality. 



LETTER XVII. 



UTILITY. 



It was a king of Sparta, who counselled that 
the young should learn, what they would have 
most occasion to practice, when they reached ma- 
turity. We praise his wisdom ; yet recede from 
its guidance. Especially, is female education defi- 
cient in its adaptation of means to ends. And 
yet, our province is so eminently practical, that to 
disjoin acquisition from utility, seems both a 
greater mistake and a more irreparable misfortune, 
than for the other sex, to adopt a desultory system, 

Man lives in the eye of the world. He seeks 
much of his solace from its applause. If unsuc- 
cessful in one profession, he enters another. If his 
efforts are frustrated in his native land, he becomes 
the citizen of a foreign clime. He makes his 
home on the tossing wave, or traverses the earth 
from pole to pole. His varieties of situation, give 
scope for varieties of knowledge, and call into ac- 
tion, energies and attainments, which might long 
have lam dormant, or been considered of little 
value. It is not thus with woman. Her sphere 
of quiet duty requires a more quiet training. Its 
scenery has few changes, and no audience to ap- 



258 UTILITY. 

plaud. It asks the aid of fixed principles, patiently 
drawn out into their natural, unostentatious results. 
There was in past times, much discussion re- 
specting the comparative intellect of the sexes. It 
seems to have been useless. To strike the bal- 
ance, is scarcely practicable, until both shall have 
been subjected to the same method of culture. 
Man might be initiated into the varieties and mys- 
teries of needlework, taught to have patience with 
the feebleness and waywardness of infancy, or to 
steal with noiseless step, around the chamber of 
the sick ; and woman might be instigated to con- 
tend for the palm of science, to pour forth elo- 
quence in senates, or to *' wade through fields of 
slaughter, to a throne." Yet revoltings of the 
soul would attend this violence to nature, this 
abuse of physical and intellectual energy, while 
the beauty of social order would be defaced, and 
the fountains of earth's felicity broken up. The 
sexes are manifestly intended for different spheres, 
and constructed in conformity to their respective 
destinations, by Him who bids the oak brave the 
fury of the tempest, and the Alpine flow^er lean its 
cheek on the bosom of eternal snows. But dis- 
parity need not imply inferiority ; and she of the 
weak hand and the strong heart, is as deeply ac- 
countable, for what she has received, as clearly 
within the cognizance of the " Great Task-Ma- 
ster's eye," as though the high places of the earth, 
with all their pomp and glory, awaited her ambi- 
tion, or strewed their trophies at her feet. 



UTILITY. 260 

Females, who turn their existence to no good 
account, contradict the intention of their Creator. 
They frustrate both his bounty and their felicity. 
Pubhck opinion has not been sufficiently distinct, in 
its reproofs of their aimless life. It has been held 
derogatory to the dignity of those who are in the 
possession of wealth, to understand the more hum- 
ble departments of domestick industry. Hence, 
their exceeding helplessness, when by the fluctua- 
tions of fortune, or the common accidents of life, 
they are thrown upon their own resources. Their 
miserable imbecility, in times of trial, has brought 
that odium upon education itself, which only be- 
longs to ill-directed education, or to a sentiment of 
false shame, which should be early rooted out. 
Useful occupations ought not to be discouraged 
by the contempt of those, who are not obliged to 
pursue them for a livelihood. In the ancient re- 
publicks, the diligence of our sex was honourable. 
Franklin, had probably in his mind, some model, 
depicted by the historians and poets of another 
age, when he said, *' I would much rather see a 
spinning-wheel, than a piano — a shuttle than a 
parasol — a knitting-needle, than a visiting-card." 
Perhaps, he detected, even in his own tinnes of 
greater simplicity, a love of indolence, or display, 
lurking in the hearts of his fair countrywomen. 
Perhaps, he reasoned, as a political economist, for 
the good of his country. In either case, the opin- 
ion of so shrewd a philosopher, is worthy of some 
regard. Those employments which tend, evidently, 

2^* 



270 UTILITY. 

to the comforts, or necessities of existence, are 
least encumbered with the principle of vanity. 

Ladies, who have attained eminence, as in- 
structers, have ever early endeavoured to imj)ress 
on the mind of their pupils, the excellence of con- 
necting their attainments with utility. The prin- 
cipal of the Troy Female Seminary, whose per- 
severing aim to improve her own sex, has been 
blessed with illustrious success, expresses her de- 
sire that " some plan of education, should be offered 
to wealth, and rank, by which female youth might 
be preserved from contempt of useful labour ; and 
so accustomed to it, in conjunction with the high 
objects of literature and the elegant pursuits of the 
fine arts, as, both from habit and association, to re- 
gard it as respectable." 

The editor of the " American Ladies' Maga- 
zine," whose efforts for the support and education 
of her fatherless children have know^n no declen- 
sion, is, both by example and precept, an advocate 
for the consecration of talents, to high and obvious 
utility. 

Would that I might succeed in persuading you, 
my young friends, to strive that all your attain- 
ments should minister to the happiness of others, 
as well as your ow^n. Scrutinize the motives that 
prompt you to excel, either in the sciences, or 
arts of embellishment. Is it that you may take 
precedence of your associates ? — or wan empty 
adulation ? The antidote for this malady, is to do 
nothing, say nothing, be nothing, merely from the 



UTILITY, 271 

prompting of vanity, but for the sake of your own 
radical improvement, and the mental elevation or 
innocent enjoyment of those, among whom your 
lot is cast. 

The principle of display should be, as far as 
possible, disjoined from female education. Until 
this is attempted, the domestick sphere can 
scarcely be rationally or prosperously filled, nor 
will those duties be w^ell discharged, w^hich a re- 
publick imperiously demands of its daughters. The 
greatest danger arises, from what we call accom- 
plishments. At first view, it seems ill-judged, to 
devote so much time to attainments, whose exer- 
cise is incompatible with domestick duties, and 
which must be laid aside, when the cares of ma- 
turity assert their dominion. Yet if in their prog- 
ress, they have exerted aught of beneficial influ- 
ence on the character, if they have served to soften, 
to refine, or sublimate the feelings, it is a severe 
calculation, that would condemn them as value- 
less. 

Let us bring some of them to the test. When 
you sing, or take a seat at the piano, inquire 
whether you expect praise, or are chagiined if you 
do not obtain it ? whether you imposed a fatiguing 
quarantine of urgency, ere you would expose your 
performance ? or whether you were content to 
sooth and enliven other spirits as w^ell as your 
own, with those strains of melody, whose percep- 
tion is a source of bliss, both to earth and heaven. 
In dancing, is your object to be admired ? or do 



272 UTILITY. 

you seek healthful exercise, or improvement m 
courtesy and grace ? for grace of movement, or as 
it has been happily styled " the poetry of motion,'^ 
is of no slight import in woman. Like fine man- 
ners it aids in winning that influence, which she 
should consecrate to far higher purposes than per- 
sonal vanity. For your skill in drawing, do you 
claim elaborate praise ? or are you pleased simply 
to illustrate nature, to imbody historical truth, or 
to catch the intelligence of livincr features ? for the 
taste that appreciates the beautiful in nature or in 
art, is a friend to refinement and religion : and 
often has the tender soul, by the beauty and glory 
of creation, been bowed in adoration of the Cre- 
ator. 

But if the evidence of the utility of accomplish- 
ments is sometimes uncertain, if even their pro- 
cess of self-examination is difficult, from the dis- 
guises which vanity assumes, the solid studies 
are subject to no such ambiguity. The patient 
labours of thought and demonstration, the wonders 
of the orb that we inhabit, the varied annal of man's 
way from ^' Eden to this hour," the mysterious 
mechanism of the frame that modifies the ethereal 
mind, the structure of that intellect which bears 
the stamp of immortality, the awful order of the 
starry heavens, above which Vve hope to find an 
enduring mansion, impart discipline as obvious as 
it IS salutary, and prepare for destinies both human 
and divine. 

Connect with this sure gain of knowledge, an- 



UTILITY. 273 

Other source of profit, the hahit of imparting it. 
This increases mental weahh, by putting it in cir- 
culation. A merchant would be found defective 
in his profession, who after having secured the 
profit of his labours should permit them to remain 
unemployed. He would merge his own character, 
in that of a miser, and pin^ with poverty, in the 
midst of abundance. I have no hesitation in pro- 
nouncing the labour of instruction, more beneficial 
to the teacher, than even to the pupil. If a young 
lady, when her term of school-education is com- 
pleted, should devote a period to the instruction of 
others, she would find the advantage on her own 
side, not only in the depth, confirmation, and readi- 
ness for use, which would enhance the value of 
her knowledge, but in that acquaintance with hu- 
man nature, self-command, and reaction of moral 
training upon herself, which is above all price. 

It is pecuHarly important that our sex should 
have their knowledge deeply rooted in memory 
during youth. The absorbing nature of those cares 
which fill their province, in maturity, are wont to 
forbid their making wide excursions into the realm? 
of science. Even should their leisure admit it 
their attention will often be preoccupied by those 
duties, which springing from the affections, over 
power the claims of intellect ; as the banian, striking 
new roots in earth, while its head aspires to heaven, 
shuts from the sun the plants that once flourished 
on the same soil. Necessary knowleds^e should 
therefore be thoroughly acquired in youth. It 



274 UTILITY. 

should be able to bear the overshadowing of those 
mightier plants which, drawing nutriment from the 
heart, spring up with the rapidity of the mush- 
room, and the height and vigour of the cedar of 
Lebanon. It should be secured as a capital for 
life, an annuity not to be reversed. 

Another argument, in favour of making the in- 
struction of others the crowning point of educa- 
tion, is derived from those sentiments of benevo- 
lence, which, if not inherent in our sex, should be 
cultivated until they become an integral part of 
character. The more solid and laborious studies, 
by their direct discipline on the mind, have a visi- 
ble individual utility. Yet be not satisfied w^ith 
this, or with any other good which centres solely 
in self. A selfish woman is more unendurable, 
and really more blameable, than a selfish man. 
She more palpably contradicts the will of her 
Maker. She must of necessity be unhappy. For 
in proportion to her concentration of enjoyment in 
self alone, and her exaction of the efforts of others 
to that end, will be her disappointment and weari- 
ness of spirit. Be not satisfied, therefore, to pos- 
sess knowledge without diffusing it, that those less 
favoured than yourselves may share in its bles- 
sings. Consider its acquisition as imposing a two- 
fold responsibility, to enjoy and to impart. 

Admit it, therefore, as equally the vocation and 
the privilege of our sex, to be teachers of good 
things. Even when the advantages of regular 
classical culture have been denied, the requisites 



UTILITY. 275 

of a profitable instructer may be obtained by a 
persevering regimen. Self-educated people often 
excel in the power of imparting knowledge, as 
those who find out their own path, take better note 
of its helps and hinderances. Those who have 
conquered obstacles by their own unassisted 
strength, are good pioneers in the realm of know- 
ledge. As they were not borne thither in a chariot, 
they will not be apt to foster in others, that listless 
waiting for a *^ royal way," which ends where it 
began. They are often eminently successful in 
awakening the energy of their pupils, from having 
fully learned its value themselves. They are well 
qualified to point out, and to explain difficulty, and 
to have fellow feeling for those who grapple with 
it : as the man who acquires a fortune, better 
knows its worth, than he who idly inherits a patri- 
mony. 

There is a pleasure in teaching — the high pleas- 
ure of seeing others made better, and of receiving 
their gratitude. There is not a more interesting 
circumstance in the life of Madam de Genlis, than 
her fondness for instructing, when only eight years 
old, the poor httle children, w^ho gathered around 
the chateau of her father. They came thither to 
gather rushes and to play, and she leaning from 
the window of her apartment, assiduously taught 
them the catechism, the principles of musick, and 
to repeat poetry. " This," she simply expresses 
it, " w^as all I then knew myself." So much en- 
gaged, did she become in this kind office, that sho 



276 UTILITY. 

was accustomed to let herself down by a cord, 
from the open casement of her chamber, a distance 
of several feet, to the terrace, that she might be 
nearer the ignorant group, whom she was anxious 
to improve. " My little scholars," she says, 
" ranged along the wall below me, amidst reeds 
and rushes, looked up and listened to me with the 
most profound attention." What a subject for a 
painter. This beautiful and zealous teacher of 
eight years of age, indulged also her benevolence, 
by distributing among her pupils, such rewards oi 
merit as she could obtain, passing in this favourite 
employment, all that part of the day, in which hei 
governess, being engaged in writing, suffered her 
to follow her own inclinations. What stronger 
proof of an amiable and benevolent nature could 
be given, than this uninfluenced, unapplauded de- 
votedness, in early childhood, of its hour of play 
and the contents of its purse, to the encourage- 
ment of neglected and miserable villagers ? 

If some young lady of education and affluence 
could be induced to devote a portion of her time 
to the work of teaching, she would help to remove 
from it the odium of being always a mercenary 
profession. There was one, in this part of New 
England, moving in the highest grade of society^ 
elevated by genius, and a classick and refined 
education, who would have consecrated all her 
powers and sources of influence, to the work of 
instruction. The desire was not hastily imbibed. 
She had cherished it from childhood^ alleging 



UTILITY, 271" 

as a reason, the belief that " she could in that xcay 
he more useful than in any otherT In the bloom 
of youth, surrounded with all that could render it 
delightful, she writes, "I can think of no pleasanter 
or more useful way of spending life, than in teach- 
ing. I have not made this decision suddenly. I 
have pondered it in my mind, and determined as 
soon as I shall have learned enough, to fix myself 
as a teacher." But she was suddenly removed, 
where there was no need that she should either 
teach, or be taught, save in the science of angels. 
An interesting volume, the " Literary Remains of 
Martha Day," daughter of the President of Yale 
College, in Connecticut, announces to the com- 
munity the loss it has sustained by her removal, 
and incites the favoured daughters of our favoured 
land to imitate her example. 

Patriotism requires that every effort in our 
power, be made for the good of our country. Look 
at Prussia, that model for national etlucation, w^here 
a teacher is provided for every ten of her children^ 
and whose king nobly estimates it as the highest 
privilege of royalty, to be the father of his people. 
Among his many laws, making provision for the 
instruction of his realm, moral and religious train 
ing take precedence of intellectual \ and it is glo- 
rious to hear the voice of a monarch enforcing the 
precept that " the first vocation of every school, is to 
train up the young in such a manner, as to implant 
in their minds a knowledge of the relation of man 

to God, and at the same time to excite and foster 

ox 



278 UTILITY 

both the will and the strength to govern their lives 
after the spirit and precepts of Christianity." The 
Normal schools, or those established for the edu- 
cation of teachers, are nurseries of every virtuous 
habit. A brief extract from the regulations of those 
which exist in the obscure villages of Lustadie 
and Pyritz, will evince the spirit of simple and 
unaffected piety, that pervades all the similar in- 
stitutions : " This is intended to be a Christian 
school, founded in the spirit of the Gospel. It 
aspires to resemble a village household of the sim- 
plest kind, and to unite its members into one fami- 
ly. The piety which it enforces, is to be known 
by purity of manners — by sincerity in w^ord and 
deed — by love of God and of his word — by love 
of our neighbour — by willing obedience to supe- 
riors and masters — by brotherly harmony among 
the pupils. A thorough knowledge of the duties 
of a teacher is acquired by long study of the prin- 
ciples and elements — by learning what is necessa- 
ry and really useful in that vocation — by habits of 
reflection and voluntary labour — by constant appli- 
cation to lessons — by incessant repetition and 
practice — by regular industry, and w^ell-ordered 
activity, according to the commandment, ^ pray 
and iDoi^k.^ " 

" Their whole fabrick rests on the sacred basis 
of Christian love," says M. Cousin, to w^hom we 
are indebted for a luminous investigation of the 
system of instruction in Prussia, and who, by his 
noble zeal in the cause of education, has won a 



UTILITY. 279 

more illastrious distinction than that of philosopher, 
statesman, or peer of France. 

There is still another point, in which the schools 
of Prussia, may he cited as examples. Educa- 
tion is there imparted, not as the instrument of 
restless ambition, or worldly advancement, but as 
the capacity of patient usefulness, and contentment 
with the lot which Heaven has appointed. Here, 
the maxim that "knowledge is power," seems to 
have received the grosser interpretation, that it is 
money also. There, to use the words of the ac- 
complished lady, by whom this Report of National 
Instruction is translated, " the unfailing ends of a 
good education are the gentle and kindly sympa- 
thies — the sense of self-respect, and of the respect 
of fellow-men — the free exercise of the intellectual 
faculties — the power of regulating the habits and 
the business of life, so as to extract the greatest 
possible portion of comfort, out of small means — 
the refining and tranquillizing enjoyment of the 
beautiful in nature and art, and the kindred per- 
ception of the beauty and nobility of virtue-— the 
strengthening consciousness of duty fulfilled, and 
to crown the whole, that ^ peace which passeth all 
understanding.' " 

Should any of my readers inquire, why I have 
indulged in such digressions, I have no apology 
to offer. The unspeakable importance of educa- 
tion, and the strong desire to persuade my sex to 
become almoners of its blessings, merited more 
space than I have appropriated, and moie elo- 



280 tJ T 1 L 1 f f . 

quence than I can command. If you have a lore 
of the country that gave you birth, my dear young 
friends, and if you have not, your code both of 
virtues and affections is most imperfect, are you 
not wilhng for a season to devote yourself to the 
culture of her children, as some remuneration for 
the privilege of dwelling safely under her an 
spices ? Will you not at least, become the in- 
structer of all in your own family, who may be 
made better by your influence ? Will you not 
teach through your own example, the happiness 
that goodness and piety convey, the gracefulness 
they impart, the assimilation they give to angelick 
natures, and thus win all hearts to your tutelage ? 
Our sex in point of situation, have facilities as 
teachers, which are not possessed by the other. 
Political prejudices, and the asperities of religious 
controversy, sometimes fetter the operations of 
men and obstruct their access to the mind. On 
this " debateable ground," w^oman is not supposed 
to stand. A young lady, perhaps more effectually 
than any other character, has power to cast the 
^' oil of kindness," upon the waters of discord. Her 
locality need not be obstructed, or circumscribed 
by the " quick set hedge" of party jealousies. She 
may gather the lambs that wander, and no lion will 
lay waste her fold. That she will not decline this 
hallowed service, is already promised, by one who 
has for many years consecrated distinguished in- 
tellect, acquirements and piety, to the successful 
instruction of youth. ** Let the statisticks of the 



UTI L I TT» 281 

wants of our country be sent abroad,'^ says Miss 
Beecher, in her Essay on the Education of Female 
Teachers, " let the cry go forth, ^ Whom shall we 
send and who will go for us ?' and from amid the 
green hills and white villages of New England, 
hundreds of voices would respond, 'Here am I, 
send me,' while kindred voices, through the whole 
leng:th of the land, would echo the reply." 

A lady of education and refinement was led by 
the tide of emigi'ation to a western home^ She 
determined to keep constantly in view the diffusion 
of intelligence and morality, in the community 
where her Jot was cast. By the rapid growth, 
peculiar to this new world, a partial wilderness 
suddenly became a thriving settlement. When 
she was released from the absorbing cares con- 
nected with the nurture of an infant family, she re- 
solved to devote more time to the instruction oi 
others. Her husband kindly encouraging the noble 
design, built her a school-house in their garden^ 
Thither she gathered the young, and taught them 
to be useful and happy. From such as were able, 
she received the usual stipend for tuition, and de 
voted it to the purchase of a library for the school, 
or to valuable books, intended as parting gifts foi 
exemplary pupils. Even from the poor, she took 
some compensation, that they might not feel hum 
bled by too much inequality, though it was more 
than returned to them, in the form of some pres- 
ent, adapted to stimulate their progress in im- 
provement. She paid particular attention to the 

24* 



282 UTILITY. 

instruction of those, who were hkely to be em- 
ployed as teachers of village-schools. Her 
daughters, as they rose around her, caught the 
same hallowed zeal, and w^ere anxious to instruct 
in various departments, and the good devised 
and wrought out by this " mother in Israel," will 
doubtless be felt by unborn generations. 

I venture to propose that some young lady, in 
the enjoyment of affluence, should perform the 
noble charity of commencing a Normal school, 
and instructing, or causing to be instructed, ten of 
her own sex, until they shall, in their turn, be qual- 
ified to instruct others. No costly endowment 
need be connected with an establishment of this 
nature. The pupils might probably be gathered 
in the immediate vicinity. 

If they have received the common rudiments of 
education, two or three hours of personal attend- 
ance daily, with perhaps, the care of a substitute, 
for two or three more, would, with the adoption of 
a judicious system, prepare in the course of three 
years, a class of profitable teachers, for elementary 
schools, and even for higher departments. Why 
need any formiable expense be involved in such 
an arrangement ? If some of the recipients were 
able to pay a small price for tuition, it might aid 
in the purchase of books for their use. If they 
were not, the bounty of our land, is never invoked 
in vain. The author of the " Annals of Educa- 
tion," to whose perseverance and research, both 
his country and the world are indebted, says : " We 



UTILITY. 283 

hope e^e long, to see associations of females, en- 
gaged in supporting and preparing those of their 
own sex for the office of teacher. Recent calcu- 
lations in a city of England, have led to the belief, 
that the efforts of one female in a benevolent ob- 
ject were equivalent to those of thirteen of the 
other sex." 

The preparation of competent teachers for our 
village-schools, would be a lasting benefit to the 
country. The evil in our remote districts, has 
been incalculable, from illiterate teachers coming 
in contact with the mind in its season of early de- 
velopment and indelible impression. Would it 
be beneath the notice of a lady to bestow some 
systematick instruction on such young females as 
are destined to assist in the domestick care of little 
children, and in whom moral integrity, correct 
language and manners, and a sense of religious 
obligation, have a deeper value and wider influ- 
ence, than would be readily conceded or imagined ? 

But I would not prescribe the particular forms 
in which benevolent young ladies, having the com- 
mand of time, knowledge or wealth, may subserve 
the cause of happiness and virtue, by acting as 
teachers. Their own ingenuity and the circum- 
stances in which they are placed, will best define 
the channels, where this hallowed charity may 
flow. Let them, however, adopt teaching as their 
charity, and give to it regularly and laboriously, 
some portion of every day. It need not interfere 
with other employments and pleasures. Even if 



284 UTILITY. 

il should curtail some amusement in which youth 
dehghts, their payment will be the gold of con- 
science, and those radiant and priceless memories, 
that visit the death-bed. If it prove a self-denial, 
it will be a glorious one. And when they stand 
before that bar, where all shall be summoned, if it 
appear that one fellow-being has been snatched 
from vice, or fortified in virtue, or anchored on the 
'' Rock of salvation," through their instructions, 
what can the world which shall be burned as a 
scroll, or all the glory thereof, which shall vanish 
as a vision, offer in exchange for such a testimony ? 



LETTER XVIII. 

MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE. 

We are impelled, my dear yoimg friends, to 
higher degrees of intellectual and moral effort, by 
the continually advancing character of the age in 
which we live. It does not permit the mind to 
slumber at its .post, with any hope of regaining a 
respectable rank in the career of knowledge. Its 
literary gymnasium has no dormitories. It stamps 
with deficiency, what was considered a good edu- 
cation, twenty, or even ten years since. She who 
was then held accomplished, if she has remained 
content with her early attainments, will find her- 
self painfully surpassed by the spirit of the times. 
The usury of our day, does not permit the ** talent 
to be long wrapped in a napkin." Those studies 
which formerly marked the closing grade of edu- 
cation, are now familiar to the infant scholar. So 
much has knowledge divested itself of mystery 
and of majesty, that '^ the sucking child plays up- 
on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child puts 
his hand upon the cockatrice den." Every thing 
urges us onward, in the pilgrimage of mind. The 
standard is constantly elevating itself, and she who 



285 MOTIVES TO 

would not be left behind, must take pains to main 
tain a corresponding elevation. 

In the department of benevolence also, as well 
as in that of intellect, there is an equally percepti- 
ble progress. Not many years since, the sphere 
of missionary labour was first explored. Now ^Hts 
field is the world,^^ The vast machinery, by which 
the Scriptures are dispensed to heathen climes, 
was then undiscovered and unimagined. Many of 
those charities, which stoop to every variety of 
human wretchedness, were either unborn or in 
their infancy. Now the economy of charity is 
unfolded to the young. The most gifted minds 
simplify wisdom to the comprehension of children. 
The bread of eternal life is mingled with the milk 
of babes. Those who enter upon the stage of 
action stand upon vantage-ground, and are enrich- 
ed with the concentrated experience of many 
generations. 

Our individual privileges, as well as the ener- 
getick character of the age, demand persevering 
exertions. We are enriched with gifts to which 
our ancestors were strangers. Our responsibilities 
are proportionably great. The useful arithmetical 
position, impressed in our childhood, that " more 
requires more, and less requires less," admits of a 
moral application. The temple of science has 
been thrown open, and its sanctuary, so long hidden 
from the eye of woman, unveiled. She is invited 
to enter. In the olden time, our grandmothers 
received instruction, in the uses of the needle, the 



PERSEVERANCE. 287 

varieties of culinary science, and the naked ele- 
ments of piety. They were expected to exhibit 
the knowledge drawn from these few sources, in 
its most patient, persevering, and practical results. 
It would have been counted an " iniquity to be 
punished by the judges," had they spoiled their 
tent-stitch tapestry — or failed in the chymistry of 
a pudding, or erred in the verbiage of their cat- 
echism. Most faithful were they, in the " few 
things" intrusted to their care. We who, in being 
''made rulers over many things," are deeply in- 
debted to the liberality of the age, have need of 
quickened and zealous industry, to render a cor- 
respondent return. 

The shelter and protection of a free govern- 
ment also demand awakened and grateful energies. 
Since its welfare is involved in the virtue and 
intelligence of its subjects, the character and 
habits of every member of its great family, are of 
importance. I imagine that I hear from the lips of 
some of the young and sprightly of my sex, the 
inquiry, " Why need we concern ourselves in the 
affairs of politicians ? what share have we in the 
destinies of our country?" The same share that 
the rill has in the rivulet, and the rivulet in the sea. 
Should every little shaded streamlet tarry at its 
fountain-head, where would be the river, that dis- 
penses fertility — the ocean, bearing commerce and 
wealth upon its never-resting tide. Woman pos- 
sesses an agency which the ancient republicks nev* 
er discovered. The young fountains of the mind are 



288 MOTIVES TO 

given in charge to her. She can tinge them with 
sweetness or bitterness, ere they have chosen the 
channels where to flow, or learned to murmur their 
story to the time-worn pebbles. Greece, that 
disciple and worshipper of wisdom, neglected to 
appreciate the value of the feebler sex, or to be- 
lieve that they, who had the moulding of the whole 
mass of mind in its first formation, might help to 
infuse a principle of permanence into national 
existence. Rome, in her wolf-nursed greatness, 
in her " fierce democracy," in the corruption of 
her imperial purple, despised the moral strength 
that lay hidden under physical weakness. But 
our country has conceded every thing ; the bles- 
sings of education, the equality of companionship, 
the luxury of benevolence, the confidence of a 
culturer's office to those young buds of being, in 
whom is her wealth and her hope. What does 
she require of our sex, in return for these courte- 
sies ? Has she not a right to expect that we give 
our hands to every cause of peace and truth — 
that we nurse the plants of temperance and purity 
— that we frown on every inroad of disorder and 
vice — that we labour in all places where our lot 
may be cast, as gentle teachers of wisdom and 
charity, and that we hold ourselves, in domestick 
privacy, the guardians of those principles which 
the sage defends in the halls of legislation, and 
the priest of Jehovah upon the walls of Zion ? 

Gratitude for the religion of Jesus Christ 
should inspire an unwavering zeal. Beside the 



PERSEVERANCE. 289 

high hope of salvation, which we share in com- 
mon with all who embrace the Gospel, our obliga- 
tions to it, as a sex, are peculiar and deep. It has 
broken down the vassalage which was enforced 
even in the most polished heathen climes. Its hu- 
mihty hath persuaded men to give honom' to " the 
weaker vessel." The depressed condition of our 
sex in classick Greece, is familiar to all who read 
the pages of histoiy. Though her epick poet 
portrayed, in radiant colours, an Andromache and a 
Penelope, yet they were but the imagery of fiction, 
and the situation of woman in real life was scarce- 
ly a grade above that of a slave. Even in Athens, 
the " eye of Greece," Thucydides, her most pro- 
found and faithful historian, asserts, that " the best 
woman is she of whom the least can be said, either 
in the way of good or harm." Her degradation 
into a cipher accords with their estimation of her 
powers, and the place they intended her to fill in 
creation. The brutality with which she is still 
treated in pagan lands, and the miseries which 
make her life a burden, cause her to deplore the 
birth of a female infant, with the same unnatural 
grief that the ancient Transi cherished, who, ac- 
cording to Herodotus, " assembled to weep when 
a child entered the world, on account of the evils 
of that existence into which he was ushered ; while 
they celebrated funerals with joy, because the de 
ceased was released from all human calamities." 
That policy, which, for ages, regarded woman as 
toys of fancy for a moment, and then slaves for 

?4 



290 MOTIVES TO 

ever, so vile as to be shut from the consecrated 
temple on earth, and so devoid of soul as to be in- 
capable of an entrance into heaven, is " abolished 
by Him, who hath made both one, and broken 
down the middle wall of partition between us." 
Double cause, then, hath woman to be faithful to 
her Master ; to be always longest at his cross and 
earliest at his sepulchre. Let us earnestly strive 
not to live altogether " to ourselves, but unto Him 
who hath called us to glory and virtue." 

By the shortness of life, we are also admonished 
to perpetual industry. Where are those with 
whom we took sweet counsel, who walked hand 
in hand with us, beneath the sunbeams of youth's 
cloudless morning? The haunts of the summer 
ramble, the fireside-seats of winter's communion, 
reply, " They are notivithusy The grave answers 
the question, " They are here /" Doth it not also 
add in a hoarse and hollow murmur, " Thou also, 
shalt be with me ?" How often, in the registers 
of mortality, do we see the date of the early smit- 
ten. Hew often is the fair hand, that had plucked 
only life's opening flowers, withdrawn from the 
grasp of love, and stretched out in immoveable 
coldness. How often is the unfrosted head laid 
down on a mouldering pillow, to await the resur- 
rection. The firmest hold on time, is like the 
frail rooting of the flower of grass. The longest 
life has been likened by those who review it, to a 
dream, fleeting and indistinct. The present mo- 
ment is all of which we have assurance. Let us 



PERSEVERANCE. 29 1 

mark it with the dihgence of a deeply -felt respon- 
sibility. Let us learn from the tomb its oft-re- 
peated, yet too unheeded lesson : " What thine 
hand findeth to do, do with thy might ;" for with 
me, to whom thou art hastening, is " neither wis- 
dom, nor knowledge, nor device." 

The assurance that this is a state of probation, 
should give vigour to virtue, and solemnity to truth. 
Every hour assumes a fearful responsibility when 
we view it as the culturer of an immortal harvest. 
Time is the seed-planter of Eternity, and every 
winged moment does his work and will have its 
wages. Here we are but in the childhood of our 
existence. This was deeply realized by that great 
philosopher to whom the universe unfolded its 
mysterious laws, and light, that most subtile ele- 
ment, revealed its mechanism, who held commun- 
ion with Nature in her majesty, as the prophet 
walked on Sinai with his God. In the wisdom 
of his heaven-taught humility, he said, that his 
whole life seemed but as the play of children, 
among the sands and bubbles of the seashore. 
The belief that " He who knov/eth our frame," 
keepeth us here in his fatherly school, that its dis- 
cipline may qualify us to become students with 
angels, should incite us not only to discharge duty, 
but to sustain adverse appointments with an un- 
shrinking spirit. We should ever remember that 
this is our trial state, and that trials, more power- 
fully than pleasures, ripen the fruits of righteous- 
ness, " The good things which belong to pros- 



292 M T I V E S T o 

perity may be wished, but the good things that 
belong to adversity are to be admired^'^ said Sen- 
eca : or to use the clearer language of Bacon, 
that greater than Seneca, " the virtue of prosperi- 
ty is temperance, but the virtue of adversity is for- 
titude, and the last is the more sublime attain- 
ment." Let us strive to pass calml}'- under the 
storm, or to tread the miry path without pollution, 
because w^e are travellers to our Father's house, 
where nothing can enter that defileth. This world 
was evidently not intended for a state, where the 
immortal mind could receive full gratification. To 
resist evil, to fulfil obligation, to partake cheer- 
fully of finite good, yet to feel its disproportion to 
our own boundless desires, to submit to the re- 
finer's process in the furnace of affliction, and ar- 
dently to seek fitness for an ethereal home, is per- 
ceived to be our principal business and highest 
wisdom. Elevated by such contemplations, suf- 
ferings and labours will seem light. Calumny and 
injustice will be borne with patience, for the praise 
or dishonour of men is an air-bubble to those who 
are bound to an unerring tribunal, where " every 
thought is made manifest." 

The sports and gi'iefs of a child, seem to man- 
hood as folly. Yet amid these sports and sor- 
rows, he is cherishing the tempers which are to go 
with him through life, and form its happiness or 
wo. So, the pursuits of men, their love of variety, 
their eagerness for wealth, their bloody strife after 
honour, their agony when these rainbow-promises 



PERSEVERANCE. 293 

fade, are folly to the eye of angels. Yet by the 
agency of such pui'suits and disappointments are 
those dispositions confirmed, which either fit to 
dwell with angels, or exclude from their society 
for ever. 

The objects that now agitate or delight us, must 
soon perish. But the habits of mind which they 
generate, the affections which they mature, are 
eternal. They go with us over the " swelling of 
Jordan," when, of all the riches which we have 
gathered, w^e can carry nothing away. The har- 
mony of soul, which prepares for intercourse with 
** just men made perfect," the love of holiness, the 
spirit of praise, which constitute the temper and 
the bliss of heaven, must be commenced below ; 
so that not the scenes through which we pass, but 
the impressions which those scenes make on the 
soul, are to be desired, or deprecated. Ah ! who 
is sufficiently aware of the importance of this brief 
existence ? Who is that " faithful and wise 
steward," w^hom his Lord, coming even at mid- 
night, shall find prepared ? 

The consciousness of immortality is both a 
prompting and sustaining motive of immense in- 
fluence. To do this, or to avoid that — not from 
considerations of personal interest, but because 
we are to live for ever — is worthy of a being, 
marked out by his Creator, for a 

" Sky-bom, sky-guided, sky-returning race." 

We are too prone to be absorbed, either by the 

25* 



294 MOTIVESTO 

things of this Hfe, or by gloomy views of its ter- 
mination, pressed on us by the departure of some 
endeared relative or friend. We busy ourselves 
more wdth the part which dieth, than with that 
which is immortal. Sometimes we array Death 
with a transforming power, or trust that the dis- 
eases which are his heralds, may bring a repent- 
ance able to atone for the errors and omissions of 
many years. He often steals unawares upon his 
victim, leaving no time for sigh or prayer. His 
office is to sunder the spirit from the cla}'', not to 
reform, or prepare it for heaven. He takes the 
soul as he finds it. It is life which seals our cre- 
dentials for the bliss or wo of eternity. We are 
accustomed to anticipate the ministry of death 
with fear. I would say to you, rather fear life ; 
for according to the character of that life, will death 
be to you either the king of terrors, or the herald 
of unspeakable joy : 

** Death hath no dread, but what frail life imparts." 

We think too much of the dark gate^ through 
which we pass into the eternal temple, and too 
little of the pilgrimage by which our mansion in 
that temple is determined. Earthly prosperity 
should be estimated by its influence on the soul. 
What we here term adversities, may in reality be 
blessings. When we cast off these vestments of 
clay, perhaps they may come in beautiful garments, 
to welcome us to everlasting habitations. Here, 
we spoke of them as evil messengers ; in the court 



PERSEVERANCE. 295 

of heaven, we may perchance recognise them, as 
" angels sent on errands full of love." 

By the combined influence therefore of intellect- 
ual, moral and religious obligation, by the unrest- 
ing voice of Time, Judgment, and Eternity, we are 
impelled to diligence, perseverance and zeal in 
duty, urged to " forget the things that are behind, 
and reach forward toward those that are before, 
and press onward to the mark, for the prize of the 
high calling of God, in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

And now, my daughters, farewell ! In pursuing 
with you, objects of tender and high concern, my 
heart has been drawn towards you, with something 
of a mothers love. The hand that traces these 
lines, will soon moulder in dust ; and the eye that 
peruses them, however radiant with hope, or bril- 
liant in beauty, must w^ear the seal of clay. 
Though we never meet in the flesh, yet at that 
day when the " dead, small and great, shall stand 
before God," may it be found that we have so com- 
muned in spirit, as to aid in the blessed pilgrimage 
to " glory — honour — immortality — eternal life." 



THE END. 



— /-N 






-li^:4 



